


What is Normal, Anyway?

by DragonKeeper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: (Sorry if I fumble), Assassins, Bi-Racial!Harry, BladeMaster!Harry, Disfigurement, F/F, F/M, I love sass and snark, M/M, May You Live In Interesting Times: Curse, Out of Character, Rule 63, Sassy&Snarky, Some Live - Freeform, Tattoos&Piercings, Why is nothing ever normal in his (her) life?, female!Harry, grey!Harry, i love harry, it's all for the plot, mentions of torture, powerful!Harry, some die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonKeeper/pseuds/DragonKeeper
Summary: Hariah Potter, adopted at three by an assassin duo, learned to fight from a young age, and to win. But even when combined with magic, the Second War of Voldemort still went much longer than expected. For ten years, from June of 1995 to July 2005, the fight against the dark took it's toll on everyone.It's 2010, five years after the end of the war, and Hariah is vilified once more for not following anyones expectations of her, instead deciding to focus inward. On the morn of her thirtieth birthday, she is taken by the Valar, who have been introducing themselves to her through dreams, and deposited in the path of four Hobbits as they are leaving the Shire.Nothing is ever normal for Hariah, and she rather likes these little men. Besides, what is the meaning of normal anyway? For her, this is it.





	1. Prologue: Happy Birthday Hariah!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing on this site. Who knows if I'll manage to continually update. This particular idea popped up in the middle of writing another series of fanfiction of this genre. Ratings and warnings may (and most likely will) change as I continue this piece.
> 
> There will be, at the very least, mentions of time spent as a prisoner of war. If this offends or triggers anyone, I apologize in advance. I will post in the chapter notes any warnings for that particular chapter.
> 
> So, I realized I needed to put a key of sorts up:  
> "Talking"  
> 'Thinking' - in Italics  
> Telepathic - in Italics, no quotation marks  
> "Talking" - in Italics indicates Elvish when in Middle Earth  
> "Talking" - in Bold indicates Dwarvish when in Middle Earth  
> Any talking done in Italics or Bold done by Hariah or anyone from Earth will be emphasis, unless otherwise noted. If they are using a different language, I will use Google Translate and put the translation in the end notes, for most languages. Some languages, I will state what they were speaking in, but write in English. 
> 
> Before I go any further, allow me to post a disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Ms. JK Rowling does. I do not own The Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Professor JRR Tolkien created them, and they are owned by whoever has rights now (I have not done my research into that answer). I am just playing in the sandboxes these two authors have created for us. I make no living off this writing, this is just a passion.
> 
> I hope you lot enjoy this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May the story begin, and the plot thicken (or perhaps begin...).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder:  
> "Talking"  
> 'Thinking' - in Italics  
> Telepathic - in Italics, no quotation marks  
> "Talking" - in Italics indicates Elvish when in Middle Earth  
> "Talking" - in Bold indicates Dwarvish when in Middle Earth  
> Any talking done in Italics or Bold done by Hariah or anyone from Earth will be emphasis, unless otherwise noted. If they are using a different language, I will use Google Translate and put the translation in the end notes, for most languages. Some languages, I will state what they were speaking in, but write in English.
> 
> As of 1/24/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.

The sounds of alternating clunk-slap of mismatched shoes hitting a dirt ground filled the early morning air, mixing with quiet panting and birdsong. The distant mountains were backlit, barely, with the pre-dawn sun, leaving the valley below still in darkness, stretching across the forest, mansion, and surrounding farmlands and hamlets. The grounds of the mansion held a strange field containing six hoops, three at each end, atop sixty-foot poles, as well as stables, and a training field, complete with a simple track around its perimeter. On the track, a stocky woman was running, head up, and a determined look upon her face. One would not have been able to easily spot her, for she had espresso brown skin, marred by scars and decorated with tattoos, paired with black leggings and sports bra. Her left leg was misshapen underneath the leggings, and a soft grunt accompanied each step she took with that leg. Long ebony braids bounced along behind her, held by oblong pewter clasps, and emerald eyes tracked the surroundings.

Several laps later, the sky had lightened so that the mountains were outlined in a strong yellow, fading to purple further west. The stout woman had stopped running, and was now executing several acrobatic moves across the field, wielding a long sword against invisible foes. Flashes of bright metallic green and red shone from both of her arms, indiscernible with the swiftness of her movements, as well as the metallic reds, golds, and oranges on her shoulder blades. As she danced and flipped, she traded her long sword for a long dagger, and was joined by another shadow, a tall, broad man, as dark as her, with whiskey brown eyes and dark dreadlocks, and they faced off, blades singing as they clashed. The two shared thick muscles, and looked enough alike that the passing observer would call them blood siblings.

An hour later, the two were cleaning their blades, and wiping sweat from their brows and necks. The tattoos decorating the arms of the woman were now visible; a green and red dragon upon her left arm, and twining red roses and green ivy vines on the right. The head of the dragon and the rose heads rested across her collarbones, and the body of the dragon, as well as the ivy vines and rose buds, twined around her arms, coming to a rest on her inner wrists. A black tattoo of daisies decorated her lower abdomen, and as she turned to put her weapons away, the man turned his gaze to her back, home to both scars and a tattoo depicting a wolf, dog, and stag with lilies wrapped around its antlers standing on a cliff, surrounded by a full moon, done in a shadowy black.

“Hariah,” the woman, Hariah Potter, turned at the sound of her name, focusing on her companion, “I just received word last night. The Ministry is going to bring you in today. They _say_ that they are just going to help you hide until the panic passes, but our mutual acquaintance says that the plan is to actually send you through the Veil.” Hariah scowled ferociously. “Don’t look at me like that, little sister. I think you should go on your vacation early. The twins are here. We will set it to look like foul play, but they first want to talk to you. I am going to go get started.” The man, Lee Jordan stood and kissed her brow. Where he was close to six feet tall, Hariah was just under five feet tall, and hated being reminded of her height.

Hariah gazed at the distant mountains with a frown. It had been five years, to the day – seeing as today was her thirtieth birthday – since she had defeated Voldemort. She had spent the last two years of the war being tortured by Death Eaters, and upon their win, she had been carted off to Saint Mungo’s Hospital. On top of the whiplashes, burns, and broken limbs, she lost her left leg just below her knee, most of the mobility of her left hand, as well as parts of her ears. A wood and metal prosthetic she had made with the help of her bother, Lee, fixed her walking problem, but her ears had to be pulled back together. They were now smaller than normal and came to a sharp point. Quite shockingly, her hearing had actually increased. But her injuries were not the issue, healed as they were. It had been five years, and everyone had been pushing her to marry, have a family, and join the Aurors. None of which she wanted to do at the moment. She had seen enough of fighting bad guys, and she could not stand the thought of marrying anyone, let alone having a family with that person. Now, she was being called the next Dark Lady.

She rolled her eyes at her reminisces and the idiocy of the general populace and pulled on a loose cream colored peasant shirt, quickly pulling the ties at the neck closed, before swinging her light summer cloak, a nice moss green, and fastening it with her rose gold clasp shaped into a dragon, curled in sleep. Rosewood lined the wings and scales in a beautiful inlay. Her dagger and sword were shrunk and placed in an inner pocket of her cloak, and she started toward the mansion, barely keeping herself from elbowing the two tall shadows of slender men as they melted from the fading darkness.

“Hello Fred, George.” That was all that was needed. The three of them, along with Lee, never really needed to verbally communicate with each other, having known each other for almost twenty-one years. She reached out and wound her arms through theirs, and they shifted closer.

“So,” George turned a raised eyebrow to Hariah, “Lee told you?” At her nod, Fred huffed.

“That does not mean much. Are you ready?” Hariah huffed out a laugh.

“The both of you know that I live out of my trunk, _and_ that I am never without my trunk, no matter how much Blinky wails and huffs. I am always ready.” She leaned her weight onto her right leg, pausing briefly to shake her left leg. A soft metal clank sounded, and she settled back to a regular walking pattern. She blinked a smile at the men, switching her gaze between two pairs of eyes that reflected the clear summer sky, surrounded by pale skin, blemished only by multitudes of freckles. They had long, lanky limbs, and were identical to the untrained eye. They chuckled, squeezing her into a sandwiched hug. Fred turned to his brother slightly, and Hariah mentally prepared herself for a game of Tennis Talk.

“Anyway, despite the lingering dark -”

“- On our bright horizon, it would not do -”

“- To send you off without a proper birthday, -”

“- Complete with cake, presents, and -”

“- Family. Teddy and Andromeda are here, -”

“- As are Lee, Oliver, Katie, Angelina, and -”

“- Alicia. You have presents from -”

“- Everyone, as well as Draco, Blaise, Pansy, -”

“- Cedric, and Cho, not to mention our family.”

“No time like the present, so let’s go!”

The twins grabbed a hand each and started to pull her forward. Startled, she stumbled forward for a few steps, before using her mass to pull them to a stop.

“Guys, I have to shower and change, as well as pack an outward bag before I go, and I need to go soon. I may be able to head off as I am now, but I prefer to have a pack, and I will not have time for a gathering! Just send the presents to me later, and tell everyone that I am sorry to miss the gathering. The goblins have further instructions should everything go south. Tell Teddy I love him!” She turned to the training house on the edge of the training field, taking in the sun peaking over the v created by the mountains and spilling light into the valley. As the light hit her, however, a sharp pain originated from her temples, as if struck by a rock, and unfamiliar stars filled her vision, blocking everything else out, before she fell unconscious.

The next thing she knew, she was laying on her back in the middle of a path, surrounded by unfamiliar flora, looking up at four strangely familiar faces - did she not just dream of them just now, their curious faces filled then with grief and mourning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 1/24/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.


	2. Chapter 1: Don't Touch My Hobbits!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred and George talk, the Valar plot and weep, the Hobbits appear, and we go to Bree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mention of killing animals in this chapter beyond hunting for food. It is, however, brief.  
> Just a reminder:  
> "Talking"  
> 'Thinking' - in Italics  
> Telepathic - in Italics, no quotation marks  
> "Talking" - in Italics indicates Elvish when in Middle Earth  
> "Talking" - in Bold indicates Dwarvish when in Middle Earth  
> Any talking done in Italics or Bold done by Hariah or anyone from Earth will be emphasis, unless otherwise noted. If they are using a different language, I will use Google Translate and put the translation in the end notes, for most languages. Some languages, I will state what they were speaking in, but write in English.
> 
> As of 1/24/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.

Fred and George were identical in almost every sense of the word, not to mention special. Sure, magic brought them closer together; close enough for a strong mental bond allowing them to talk mind to mind. However, they were not technically from the world they inhabited. They were placed there by beings called the Valar, sent to look after the young woman _who had just disappeared in a swirl of stars that reminded them of Varda, Queen of the Valar!_ George turned his body towards his brother, keeping his head turned to where Hariah had last been visible. Fred mirrored his stance, and they briefly glanced at each other.

_Is this why we were sent here? Is she the Chosen Champion? Is she the one we lost to the river during the ambush?_ George looked worried, knowing that the explosion from their commander and friend would not be pretty if that were true.

_Possibly. We have to wait though. If she is, we need to be able to rouse help. So few of us survived. But there is an admittedly slim chance that this was not done by Lady Varda. Either way, we need to go tell everyone. She will be safe._ Fred clasped his brother’s hand, and they turned to walk back to the mansion. Their wives would not be happy about this. Nor would Lee. His little sister was truly missing; the person who adopted them, as well as their aunt, were reported having been sent through the Veil in the last year of the war, and he was now alone. This was not going to be pretty.

But despite that, they needed to be ready. Their “mum” would not be happy, but she would fight for her pseudo daughter, as would their “dad”. So would Bill, his wife Fleur, Charlie, Percy, his wife Penelope, their wives Angelina and Alicia, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Oliver, his wife Katie, Cedric, his wife Cho, Draco, Pansy, Daphne and Blaise. Not to mention the support from Victorie, Gabrielle, Astoria, Teddy, Andromeda, and most of the Hogwarts staff. Hariah may not know it, but, despite the number of people who called her dark, she had a wide net of supporters.

~~*~~*~~

Hariah twisted in midair, unaware of her surroundings. A matronly woman hovered over her, checking over her various scars. Had Hariah been aware, the woman’s demeanor would have reminded her of Madame Pomfrey, with the same sharp eyes, and stern set of her mouth. Laugh lines were etched into the tan skin surrounding the woman’s ochre eyes, and her rust colored hair was twisted into an elaborate bun at the base of her skull. She wore white robes, flowing down to pool at her feet.

“How is she, Estë?” A deep, rumbling voice, sounding like stones rolling down a mountain, sounded from the shadows of a room. A broad man stood, half covered by the shadows, about the same height as Hariah, and a magnificent silver beard, braided in a way that it stayed out of his way, lay across his chest, and his folded arms bulged. Behind him stood a tall man, so pale he looked grey. Dark hair curtained his thin face, and ebony eyes watched the twisting figure closely. The tittering of a green-haired woman, standing around three and a half feet tall, and leaning against the man who had spoken, was ignored for the time being. Her dark skin shifted as she moved toward the pair in the center of the room, her red, gold, and orange dress twirling around her shins. Large pointed ears twitched as she stood watching Hariah.

“She is fine. The scars all healed with no complications, which is rather surprising. The only damage I am able to fix is the mobility of her left hand and the internal scarring to her womb. Even then, there is no guarantee of her having children. I cannot restore her leg, much as I would love to be able to, nor will I mess with her ears. My husband is walking the Path, trying to impart as much knowledge to her as he can.” A sniffle sounded from the door, and Estë turned to the newcomers, one of which was sobbing quietly. “There now, Nienna, I know you shed the tears that she has not, but please know that she is not suffering at this moment.” The woman nodded, not bothering to slow her tears. Her mouse brown hair swayed in its low tail, and aquamarine eyes stayed fixed on Hariah.

“She may not suffer now, but she has. I will weep until she is healed, mentally and emotionally. She is no less precious than anyone else.” Nienna brushed pale fingertips against Hariah’s forehead, still silently weeping. The green-haired woman poked Estë.

“Hurry and heal her. We do not have much time before I must put her in the path of my children.” Estë chuckled and turned back to Hariah.

“You wish for her to see your Shire that badly, Yavanna?” The small woman turned to the speaker. The man with the large beard approached her, but she focused on the other person in the doorway.

“Yes, Ulmo, I do wish it that badly. You have seaweed in your hair.” The man chuckled, even as she was pulled into an embrace. “Aulë, that tickles!” A rumbling laugh filled the room, even as the thin man swept out of the room, not having said a word. Ulmo called after his retreating back.

“You cannot hide from her forever, Námo!” Another rumbling laugh erupted from Aulë as Ulmo cursed and jumped into the room to avoid a pebble as it soared by. His wife, Nienna, chuckled through her tears.

“He is still upset dear. Leave him be. Yavanna, best be ready.” They turned their focus back to Hariah, who was no longer twisting, and Yavanna caught her as she dropped down.

“May you find your peace, Hariah Rose, and know that we truly are sorry for dropping you into this mess.” They disappeared in a swirl of colorful flower buds and green leaves.

~~*~~*~~

Hariah fumbled for a weapon, even as she sat up, narrowly avoiding banging her head against one of the four faces that had been hovering over her. She eventually brought forth a stick, already working to channel her magic through it, if she needed to. She absently noted that she was still wearing her leggings, loose shirt, trainers, and cloak, even if the trees were unfamiliar, unlike the faces. She lowered the stick a few centimeters, narrowing her eyes at the four. They were child like in their height, only about a foot shorter than her. But their faces were most definitely adult, or almost adult. Cerulean blue eyes watched her with suspicion, peering out from a lightly tanned face and surrounded by dark, unruly curls. He carried a walking stick, held in front of him protectively. Next to him, hazel eyes stood against an olive tanned face. She noted sandy curls sticking out, before focusing on the frying pan he held, obviously ready to use to smash her head in with one wrong move. He also appeared suspicious. The other two were younger, and merely curious and cautious. She noted light curls and a crooked jaw on one, and dark curls and a dark scarf on the other, before the suspicious one spoke up.

“Who are you and why are you laying out in the woods like you were?” She lowered the stick even further, before dropping it. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and a hand reached up to unconsciously tug at a braid.

“My name is Hariah, but I have no clue how I got here, why I was laying in the woods without a camp, or, indeed, _where_ I am. Last I remember I was turning to clean up after my morning workout and talking with two of my closest friends.” Glances were exchanged over her head, and she curled in a little, pressing her left hand closer to her chest. It felt odd, stronger than it had been in the last five years. Closer to how it felt before she lost mobility. She went through some exercises, noting with surprise at the regained mobility, before she focused back on the four people in front of her. They had retreated some to confer quietly, and she took the time to examine them.

Each of them had large, pointed ears, reminding her of leaves in shape, and large hairy feet. They did not bother with shoes, and, indeed, she was certain they did not need them. Those feet looked like they had very thick soles. Their trousers only went to mid calf, and they all wore suspenders. She gave a half smile at the quaintness of it all, and she started to finger her cloak clasp. They were all wearing cream-white shirts, of a higher quality than hers, hers being a handy-me-down from her aunt and being rather old, as well as traveling cloaks of a dark brown. The two suspicious ones had traveling packs, while the younger two carried armfuls of vegetables that appeared to have been pilfered. As they conferred, however, a strange feeling overcame her. She stood, scooping up another stick, about the length and thickness of a staff, facing in the opposite direction, putting herself between the danger she sensed and the conferring people. She stood there, makeshift staff held in a defensive position, and the quiet chatter behind her petered into a nervous silence.

“I don’t know what it is, but something foul is approaching.” A couple of gasps sounded at her statement, and she heard the one from earlier snap something about needing to avoid roads. After that, she heard nothing, but before she could check, a dark rider appeared. She scrambled to the side of the road to avoid getting trampled. In doing so, she noted that the four had disappeared. To her shock, the horse, a large dark being covered in dark metal armour, stopped in front of her. She barely had time to realize the horse’s eyes were wild and red before the rider leaned over. An overwhelming feeling of fear overcame her briefly before she shook it off in time to hear a hissed question.

_“Ssshhirre?”_ She narrowed her eyes in confusion, gazing into an empty-looking helmet of the same dark metal that protected the horse. _What is a shire?_

“I do not know what a shire is, or indeed where, if it is a place.” Her eyes flickered over the long black robes that covered the being. They were tattered and flowed around him in a way that reminded her of Dementors.

_“Bagginsss?”_ Her head tilted to the side at the new question. Was Baggins a name?

“I don’t know a Baggins, whether it is a person or a place. Can you point me to the nearest settlement? I seem to have lost my way.” The feeling of fear intensified, and only her training kept her standing. The rider gave a nonverbal hiss that conveyed its anger, before swinging out a hand gloved in metal, too fast for her to react accordingly to. The hand caught her across her left temple, and she collapsed. Her vision faded out, and she heard the horse canter off. As her vision returned, she saw the four from earlier looking at her, worriedly. She brought her hand up to wipe away the trickle of blood.

“Where did you four go?” A glance was exchanged between the four, before the apparent spokesperson spoke up.

“We were asked to not travel the roads. It is too dangerous for us right now. You were rather brave, facing that rider, Hariah. Do you truly not know of the Shire or Baggins?” She ripped a strip from the bottom of her shirt to tie around her head until she could get a closer look at the wound.

“I have no clue about either. Nor about what kind of creature you four are. You look human, but I can tell you are adults, even at such a small size. I have never seen anyone with ears or feet like yours.” The four spluttered briefly, before straightening.

“We are Hobbits, ma’am, hobbits of the Shire. Frodo Baggins, warm home to you.” He bowed his head respectfully, even as the sandy haired man stepped forward.

“Samwise Gamgee, warm home to you, Hariah. Please call me Sam.” He stepped back with a slight smile. Somehow, she had gained their approval. Two sets of mischievous eyes peered at her, light brown curls surrounding a crooked jaw and dark brown eyes were to her left, while dark curls framed bright blue eyes peering form a face that sat on top a stylish scarf to her right.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck -”

“- And Peregrin Took -”

“- Warm home to you.”

Her eyebrows raised in amusement, even as the left side of her mouth twitched. The reminded her of Fred and George. She stumbled to her feet, even as the one on her left, Meriadoc, continued.

“But just call us Merry and Pippin. So, are you an elf?” She stared at Merry, before glancing around at the other three curious faces.

“No…” She tilted her head, bringing her fingers up to trace her left ear, flinching slightly at how sensitive the scars still were, despite the piercings. “I was held prisoner and tortured, five years ago. My ears were so damaged that part of them had to be removed. They stitched the remainder of my ears together, and they ended up with points. I am human. I have never heard of Hobbits. Tell me, something, I’m curious: what is the view on magic?” Four pairs of eyes blinked at her, and she mentally cursed, preparing herself to wipe their memories if things went wrong. Frodo shifted forward.

“Mostly accepted. We are on our way to meet Gandalf the Grey, one of the five wizards.” _Five? There were only five wizards? Perhaps there were more witches._

“Is there a magical community? Are magical women kept from everyone?” Frodo shifted again, looking puzzled.

“There are only five beings that posses true magic. There is no community. If you would like, you can travel with us to talk to Gandalf yourself.” She stared at him. _No community? But… oh dear, this may be difficult._

“Is magic… taboo otherwise, then?” Sam stepped forward.

“No ma’am. Why are you so curious about it?” Four eyes looked at her in confusion, and she sighed, fiddling with her hidden wand holster on her right forearm.

“I ask, because I have magic. I wanted to see if there were more like me so that I might figure out what happened. But now that you have said that only five people possess true magic, I do not know if mine will even work properly. If it doesn’t…” She trailed off. Her cloak clasp was not truly a cloak clasp. It was a five-compartment trunk, made by her parents, that had dormant magic, allowing it to transform at a button when touched by the right magic. If her magic did not work properly, then she had no access to any of her stuff. Frodo shifted, even as Merry and Pippin huddled in on either side of her. That particular action reminded her so much of Teddy that she had to refrain from grabbing them and allowing the tears to flow, though the feeling passed quickly as she pulled herself together.

“Let’s get off the road and further away, so that we don’t get caught by any more riders, and then we can see what can be done. Sound alright?” She internally huffed at the slightly patronizing tone Frodo took at that, even as she nodded and the five of them made their way further into the woods. She kept a grip on her makeshift staff, already making plans to strip the bark and carve the wood into a properly decorated staff.

~~*~~*~~

That evening, they stopped, deep in the woods, but within earshot of a rushing river. Hariah shuddered at the sound, even as she settled down by the small fire she had created. She hoped that there was a sturdy bridge if they were crossing that river. The afternoon had passed rather uneventfully, with her practicing small and simple spells. Her magic was sluggish, but not overly so. It was more like the feeling she got when she had not used it in several months, which did not make much sense, seeing as she had passed out this morning, and was awoken shortly after noon, but she brushed it off.

“So, Hariah, why were you so worried about your magic? Is it important for you to live?” Pippin plopped down at her side, handing over a bowl of stew that Sam made. She chuckled even as she sipped the broth, thinking of the best way to answer.

“Not exactly. I can live without expending magic; it will not kill me if I do not use it. But, I spent ten years leading a war; I learned to live out of a bag. I also learned to disguise whatever container was holding my stuff. I may not have seen war in five years, but the practice stayed with me. Magic runs in my family, and my parents, before their death, made a special trunk, tuned to our family’s magic. It will not work for anyone else, unless I tune him or her into the magical makeup of the trunk. If my magic did not work properly, I would not have access to my clothes, armor, weapons, writing supplies, healing supplies, books, food, or hideout.” Pippin was quiet, and she looked up from the stew to find them looking at her expectantly. She sighed. “Let me guess, you want to see this trunk.” Four heads bobbed up and down like bobble heads, and she set down her bowl before removing her clasp. “I will only show you the clothes compartment right now, since I need clothes and armor. I have a sword and dagger shrunk down in my pocket, and that will do for now.”

She quickly ran a finger along the engraved rose on the back of the dragon clasp, and soon enough, a beautiful rosewood trunk stood on the ground in front of them. The dark red wood swirled in patterns that, from an angle, looked like flames, and a beautiful dragon, wings spread wide and spewing fire towards the sky, was engraved upon the top, with a rose and ivy border running along the sides of the lid. She quickly pushed the first of the buttons hidden amongst the roses, and the lid popped open, a full wardrobe rising from the trunk, complete with drawers and shelves for small items that did not hang well. While the hobbits studied the wardrobe, quietly trying to figure out how the magic worked (she smiled at that – it took most of the last five years for her to figure that out, and she had magic on her side), she quickly pulled a leather pack from the bottom most drawer. She by-passed her skirts and dresses, going for her simple shirts, leather trousers and jerkins, chest bindings, and boots. She placed a spare change of clothes into her pack, as well as other items from the shelves – a metal mess kit (containing a plate, bowl, cup, and silverware, held together with the handle on the bowl that allowed it to be used as a small pot), a small rosewood box (containing extra hair clasps, pewter hair pins, and a pewter comb), a pack of rations, and a small cloth bundle. The bundle was her Invisibility Cloak, and wrapped within, safe and sound, was the Elder Wand and Resurrection Stone. To the top of the pack, she secured a bedroll, and set it aside. She set aside a chest binding, brown shirt, brown leather jerkin and trousers, and brown leather boots. Her moss cloak was exchanged for a brown and moss patchwork cloak, charmed to help her blend into a forest. She quickly stripped, ignoring the _eep_ from the Hobbits, quickly checking on her prosthetic, making sure the charms were still strong. Once changed, she placed her dirty clothes a drawer, neatly folded, and closed the trunk. She slipped three stiff leather pouches and her long sword, the Sword of Gryffindor, on a black belt and secured it around her waist, before slinging the pack up under her cloak and attaching the dagger to the inside of her cloak.

“Sorry. Like I said, ten years at war. During that time, I lost what little body shyness I had, and I no longer worry about where I am when I change or bathe.” Merry and Pippin grinned, while Frodo shook his head at them. Sam, however, looked at her worriedly.

“Does metal on your leg hurt you?” She gave Sam a half smile.

“Not really. I lost that portion of my leg the same time my ears were injured, and I used magic in the creation of that leg to help with comfort and motion.” Sam nodded, trying to push a second bowl of stew into her hands. Merry grinned over Pippin’s shoulder, even as Pippin wiggled closer. Whereas Frodo and Sam felt older than her, Merry and Pippin reminded her of young adults, or teens, in Pippin’s case, and he backed up this feeling with his next question.

“What about the metal in your belly button, hmm?” She chuckled and ruffled his curls, much like she would do with Teddy.

“Not so much, Pippin. I got those when I was fourteen. Sure, it was a shock of pain when I got them, but other than that, they haven’t pained me. Now, you want to know what hurt? My ear piercings, both as they were being ripped out and when I went in two years ago to get new ones.” Pippin stared at her in shock, and Frodo chuckled at his expression. To do something that hurt, and oh did it hurt, especially with the sheer number of ear piercings she favored, would be shocking.

The evening wound down peacefully, and they were settling in to rest, when a piercing shriek filled the night air. The four hobbits shot up in fear, and Hariah quickly doused the fire, swinging her pack up under her cloak, even as Merry cried, “Buckleberry Ferry!” and shot off into the woods. They followed him, even as Hariah slipped her wand into her left hand, the Sword of Gryffindor in her right. She quickly fell to the back, and was the first to hear the familiar clop of horses galloping. She watched in detached dismay as Merry, Pippin, and Sam jumped upon a raft, even as a black rider appeared, cutting her and Frodo off from the rest. She flung her wand out in a cutting motion, a silent cutting hex bursting from the tip. It connected with the unprotected neck of the horse, and she pushed Frodo onward, turning to swipe her poisoned blade at the two horses closing in on them, catching their noses. With the three mounts dead, she bolted after the Hobbit, jumping across the open water, ignoring her instinct to freeze. Landing in the center of the raft, she sheathed her sword turning back toward the riders, who were shrieking on the dock. Her braids bounced against her knees, free from the large pewter clasp that held them in a low tail. She could feel the weight of the clasp in the hood of her cloak, and she reached around to get it, placing it in one of the pouches on her belt

“Well, that was…so not fun. Please do not ask about the blade.” She heard Pippin’s mouth click shut, and she turned to Merry, who was using a pole to move the raft upstream. “Merry, let me do that. I cannot stand water, and I will freak out if I don’t do something.”

They reached the crossing around the time she normally would have risen for her morning workout – two hours before dawn. She quickly woke the dozing Hobbits, and they hopped ashore, quickly making their way into the trees lining the road. While Sam started a quick breakfast, she and Frodo looked at a map. She was shocked at just how different the map looked, in terms of the shape of the land, but she ignored it in favor of measuring distances and discussing walking speeds.

As they ate their porridge, they determined that they would reach Bree by suppertime. Now, she and Frodo were arguing over whether she needed a room at the inn. She said she would sleep in her trunk, and it could be placed in the Hobbits’ room. He said that it would be better for her to not be seen entering their room. They let the argument die, though, as they started walking. Five hours later, about the time Pippin wanted to stop for Second Breakfast, a storm started, and the five of them gave up with the woods. They walked the edge of the road, ready to dive off at the first sign of the riders. Hariah was not fast enough in spelling their cloaks completely, and so they quickened their pace, trying to get to cover as soon as they could, uncomfortable in wet clothes. By dinnertime – and she was surprised to find that there were two separate evening meals for the Hobbits – they had reached the West Gate of Bree. Frodo hurriedly knocked upon the closed gate as she peered into the darkness suspiciously. She thought she had heard the sound of someone climbing the tall fence, but she wasn’t seeing anyone through the sheets of rain. She heard the opening of a peephole, before it closed, and another one opened. Turning back to the gate, she saw that the first one would have allowed the man to see tall people, while the second one, was more on level with the hobbits, and allowed a nice view of her chest.

“Hobbits! Four o’ you, an’ so far from th’ Shire as well! And, is tha’ a Ranger? Rather odd fer yeh ranger folk ta use tha gate ta enter. Normally, yeh jus’ climb th’ fence. Then again, yer escortin’ these Hobbits, eh? Wha’ business brings yeh out an’ about t’night, anyway?” Hariah huffed in annoyance, but before she could say anything, Frodo spoke.

“We wish to go to the Prancing Pony Inn, and our business is our own.” Hariah suppressed a wince. While it was a decent enough thing to say, he sounded uncertain to her ears, nervous like. But the gate opened anyway.

“Well now, it’s my business ta ask in times like these, y’know?” _Times like these? Is this a war-torn land, is that why it’s so dangerous to be on the road?_ Before Hariah could ask, the five of them were hurrying down the main road. Looking around, she was reminded of her first view of Diagon Alley, except now, instead of viewing the wonders of magic, she was viewing a glimpse of the world ahead. One word came to mind: _medieval._ Like the Wizarding World, there was no electricity, which was fine by her; she liked candles and fires. But, despite the onslaught of rain, she liked what she saw. The closed marketplace; the quaint shop fronts for the blacksmith, tailor, cobbler and so on; the simple building style; it was all a style she found pleasing. Despite the fact that she would most likely be pissing in a hole and drawing bathwater by hand - and she shuddered at the mere thought of sitting in a tub filled with water - she felt she would like this.

Finding the Prancing Pony Inn was not too hard. The sign, barely visible through the rain, was the only sign on this section of road. But upon walking into the inn, she got the urge to walk right back out. She was the only female patron, and, while no one seemed to have noticed yet, she felt oddly nervous about it, despite knowing she could most likely knock every one out. Frodo stepped up to the bar, and she stepped into the shadows, allowing her magic to veil her from the casual observer, to observe the tavern. Most appeared to be locals having a drink before heading home, but one person stood out, in the I’m-trying-to-blend-in kind of way. Sure, he was not the only one to be sitting in a dark corner, but he was the only one sitting alone. His cloak hood was up, and he held an unlit pipe in his hand, with an untouched drink in front of him. And _he was looking right at her!_ She narrowed her eyes at him, refusing to look away first, despite Frodo trying to get her attention. His gaze flickered over the Hobbits, and she took the opportunity to turn to the barman, Frodo’s smug countenance being all she needed to know that he had gotten her a separate room. She rolled her neck, accepting the small key and guide to her room. Pippin tapped her shoulder before they parted in the hallway.

“You okay? You seem shaken.” She grunted at him, pausing at the split.

“I’ll be better once I make sure the rain didn’t cause my prosthetic any trouble. I do not want it to rust – I just had it replaced after the last time that happened.” She gave a half smile to Pippin, who accepted her half-arsed explanation with a smile, and they parted ways.

Her room was actually sized for Dwarves – and that was a bit of a shock – and so was actually just the right size for her. She quickly transfigured her trunk, opening the wardrobe so that she could rearrange things. Her muddy leathers were quickly wiped down, and she stripped, using her magic to fill the tub with hot water. If nothing else, she was going to wash her hair. A quick transfiguration later, and she was leaning back in a chair, hair in the water, and she washed her hair. It was easily to her ankles when unbound, and, much as she loved it, it was difficult to keep clean. Mud had gotten splashed up onto the ends of her braids, and it had proven difficult to unbraid. She also needed to do a general wipe down of her body to rid it of the sweat and dirt from travels

With that all done, she let her hair start to dry by the fire as she took apart and dried her prosthetic leg. It was not a solid piece of metal or wood, but rather several layers of metal shaped like the muscular system, and had a wooden base serving as the “bone.” She was thankful she had not needed to fashion a knee, as an ankle had been difficult enough, being one of the most difficult joints of the body to reconstruct, according to the healers she had conferred with. After cleaning and refitting the prosthetic, she dressed and decided to attach more daggers - better safe than sorry in a place like this. A pair of long daggers in a crossed scabbard was fitted across her shoulders, with their grips pointed down, underneath her cloak, and a total of four boot daggers were inserted into her boots. Several stiletto daggers were secreted into her hair as she braided it into one thick braid down her back, clasped with her large pewter clasp. It bumped against the back of her knees as she moved, and she paused at the mirror on the way out.

_Would my parents approve of who I am today?_ Her emerald green eyes glinted in the firelight, almost cold despite the flames. She had never needed glasses, unlike her father, even though she had most of his features: espresso dark skin, a wide face, full lips, wide nose, and barrel-like torso. Her mother had been of Irish descent, including a willowy frame, auburn red hair, freckles, and the green eyes that she boasted. However, while Hariah was only four foot ten inches, both her parents had been over six foot. Her eyes turned sad, her reflection changing to mimic. She traced the faded lightning bolt scar over her right eye, before moving to a set of four not-so-faded scars running down her right cheek. The topmost scar ran from the far corner of her eye, and over the corner of her mouth, the other three following the same length and spacing, the second ending at the point of her chin, the third wrapping underneath her chin, and the fourth following mainly under her jaw. She rarely smiled anymore, since the scars twisted badly when she did so. The lower portion of her ears, from the lobe up to the point, was lined with studs and chains, all steel for now, and a bar ran through each tip. _Well mum, dad, what do you think of me today? Did I turn out how you hoped I would, or did I disappoint you?_ She shook her head, and turned to walk out of the room. She had almost made it to the main room when she saw the tall man she had spotted upon entering the inn push Frodo into a room. A snarl pulled at her mouth, and silently, she pulled her long daggers, preparing to charge into the room. No one touches her hobbits and gets away with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 1/24/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.


	3. Chapter 2: The Road to Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strider appears, Hariah gets angry and caring, and we are on the "road" to Rivendell. Elves appear, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back to the mentions of killing animals for something other than food. Given the nature of war, I honestly think that will happen in most chapters, so consider this a warning here on out.
> 
> Just a reminder:  
> "Talking"  
> 'Thinking' - in Italics  
> Telepathic - in Italics, no quotation marks  
> "Talking" - in Italics indicates Elvish when in Middle Earth  
> "Talking" - in Bold indicates Dwarvish when in Middle Earth  
> Any talking done in Italics or Bold done by Hariah or anyone from Earth will be emphasis, unless otherwise noted. If they are using a different language, I will use Google Translate and put the translation in the end notes, for most languages. Some languages, I will state what they were speaking in, but write in English.
> 
> As of 1/24/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.

Hariah burst into the room, using magic to control the door, and knocked the man’s long sword away from her face. Her left foot gently struck his right wrist, causing him to drop the sword, and she hooked that foot around his knee on its downward motion, bringing him down, flat on his back. She quickly moved so that he could not get up without causing harm to himself – one dagger at his throat, one dagger over his heart, and, balancing on her left foot, she placed her right foot over his groin. A quick glance at Frodo proved him nervous, but unharmed. Looking back, she bared her teeth.

“Make one wrong move, just one, I dare you, and you will either die swiftly,” the dagger at his heart twitched briefly, “slowly,” the dagger over his throat twitched this time, “or you will get away lightly, with me ending your line with you, assuming you have no current progeny.” Her leather-covered steel-soled boot pressed down against his groin slightly. She was, admittedly, impressed when the only reaction she received was a widening of those fascinatingly grey eyes. “Now, who are you?” She felt the dagger at his throat move slightly when he swallowed.

“I am a Ranger of the North. Around Bree, I am known as Strider.” She caught a glimpse of curiosity flash through his eyes as they traced over her scars. She took the opportunity to memorize his face as well. A weathered tan, gained from years of being outdoors, with a few lines around his eyes and mouth – barely noticeable – with a dark, three-day stubble covering his jaw and chin. His hair was black, though not as dark as hers, and looked unwashed, like he had been in the wilds for several days, up to a couple of weeks. She remembered him being just over six feet tall, if he had not been slouching as he moved into the room earlier. His build was a lean one, with strong muscles, and she knew that he would be a formidable opponent … to someone who had the same training as he did. Her training was different.

“What do you want with the Hobbit?” No need to reveal any names – Frodo had already taken particular care to remind them, outside of Bree, that he needed to leave the Baggins name behind.

“To k-” he was cut off by the door hitting the wall as Sam, Merry, and Pippin burst into the room, holding improvised weapons, the most ridiculous of which (but still useful in getting information) was a candlestick, but also included a barstool.

“Let him go Longshanks, or I’ll-” whatever Sam was about to say was left unsaid as the three of them froze at the sight in front of them. They were then treated to a crash course of Wizarding Swears as Strider took advantage of her distraction, knocking her hands away. She fell forward, barely catching herself before their lips touched, and then the two were wrestling. Neither of them managed to pin the other for very long, and Hariah was forced into a reassessment – perhaps he would be a formidable opponent for her. By mutual agreement, they stopped attempting to pin each other, and separated. Strider came to stand in front of the window, and she stood by the fire, the four Hobbits behind her, and Strider’s sword in hand.

“You have a stout heart, Master Hobbit, but that is not what will save you at this point.” She growled under her breath. She did not need to get into trouble with this threatening shit-head. “I know what hunts you.” _Wait, what? He’s not trying to be threatening on purpose?_ She felt Frodo shake against her back, and she snarled again, allowing it to pull her scars into a terrifying visage. She had learned, on the river, that the only thing Hobbits truly knew of war was that it disturbed the normal order of things, and therefore was unwanted. But to her, it was a way of life. It was what she knew. Still, she would not allow trouble to touch these four if she could help it. They were innocent to the terrors of life, and she wished to keep it that way.

“Do not think yourself safe just because you are no longer under my blades. I will end you if you make one wrong move. Do not make me repeat my question.” Strider looked at her with an almost fond smile.

“I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey.” Okay, he was a wizard, and supposed to meet Frodo here, but that did not mean much to her. She let it show across her face. “Several months ago, he asked me to keep an eye out for two Hobbits, described them perfectly. He asked me to lead them to Rivendell if he could not. I will admit, I was not expecting two extra Hobbits, nor was I expecting a Woman to accompany them.” She gave him a sarcastic grin, baring her teeth aggressively. Frodo tugged at her arm, and she turned slightly, keeping the man in her sights.

“I trust him. He may look foul, but he feels fair. Any agent of the Enemy would probably look fairer and feel fouler.” The last sentence was muttered in a way that she was certain he did not mean to be heard by anyone. She tucked away the mentioning of this Enemy as Merry and Pippin muttered about the Rangers helping to protect the Shire. She narrowed her eyes at Strider, who appeared to be trying to keep his expression open. She huffed and flipped the sword, catching it by the blade, her leather gloves protecting her from being cut. She held the hilt out toward Strider, growling.

“This is only because you said something was hunting them. They need more than one protector; I cannot be in four places at once.” Strider’s eyebrow rose, but he took the sword, inclining his head in acknowledgement. “Still stands, one wrong move.” The slight smile was back on his face and she growled at him.

“We will need to group into one room tonight. After your display, the riders will know where to go. There is safety in numbers right now, as well as not letting others know you are moving rooms.” _Wait, Riders? As in the same ones from last night?_ She turned back to Strider so swiftly he flinched, his right hand twitching towards his body as if to protect it; she hoped she had not bruised it - though she probably had - as it would no do to fight with a bad wrist.

“Unless they can create those foul mounts of theirs with black magic, or there are more than three riders, then they will be moving slower than most riders - I slew three mounts last night.” Strider stared at her, and she got the feeling that was as close to gaping as he would get. “What? I got a really dark feeling from them. Like a not completely human, let alone alive, feeling. They definitely had some kind of innate magic to them.”

“There are nine riders all together. Even unmounted, they are not slow. But yes, that does cripple them slightly, for they only have nine mounts, and that is it. Is that why your head is wrapped, facing three of the riders?” She shook her head mulishly. She had forgotten to take a closer look at the wound inflicted by the rider. Strider continued upon recognizing he wasn’t going to get an answer beyond the shake. “I would recommend all of us using my room - no one would expect Hobbits to room with the race of Men, especially with the distrust known between the Little Folk and the Big Folk. No one would expect an unattached female to stay in a male’s room either.” Strider gave a strained smile, and Hariah kept herself from snarling. The feeling she had gotten upon entrance to Bree, about liking this world, was fading. If females were not going to be treated well, she was going to start a fight at the very least, if not a revolution, even if she did not mean to. “Let’s go get your things.” Hariah nodded, pulling the Hobbits closer to her.

“Let’s start with their things.” She needed to devise a way to get another change of clothes into her pack, on top of retrieving her cloak and pack from her trunk, with out him noticing. She wasn’t ready to share beyond the Hobbits.

While the Hobbits gathered their things, Hariah put pillows under the sheets, covering them to look like sleeping forms, and Strider raised an eyebrow at them.

“Interesting. Is that what you did to fool your parents? And am I going to have to return you to yours?” The last was said in a mostly joking manner, but she scowled at him anyway, finalizing her plan for some time alone in her room if he refused to allow it.

“I never had the chance to fool my parents - they were murdered just after I turned one. Fooled plenty of friends, though. Well, only when they knew it would be better off for me not to be noticed as missing. Great people.” She ignored the wince everyone gave, and nodded slightly in acceptance of the apologetic look Strider gave her even as she pushed Merry and Pippin away from their attempt to aggressively cuddle her. “Got everything? Don’t bother sorting it out, we can do that once we are holed up.” Four heads nodded, and the six of them left the room.

In the hallway outside her room, she gestured for them to stay. “I need to take care of something first, and given the reactions yesterday when I changed, it would be better if you stayed out here.” Sam was the only one who obviously flushed, but Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and even Strider, who had not been there, looked faintly out of place. She chuckled silently, and slipped through the door in a way to make it seem like she had left her clothes strewn about. She slipped her cloak clasp from where she had pinned it to her jerkin, and knelt to set it down quietly as it transformed. She pulled out her pack and cloak, as well as two more sets of clothes and an emergency med kit. Quickly packing it all back, she then placed pillows under her sheets like she had in the Hobbits’ room, and, with the pack in one hand and cloak draped over her bent arm with that hand holding the med kit, she slipped back out of the room.

“Lead the way, Ranger.” She noted a shocked look on his face, one that he had hidden as soon as he realized she was there. The Hobbits looked at her nervously, as if they had been talking about her. She gently knocked Frodo with her hip and gave a half smile that they were quickly recognizing as being her version of a grin.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting on the floor of Strider’s room, with the contents of Frodo’s and Sam’s packs spread out, with Hariah and Strider evaluating. Merry and Pippin had ended up joining the two shortly before she had, as they had found her when they fell down the cliffside to the road, and therefore, the two were completely unprepared. Strider was aggravated, not wanting to stay in town long enough to get full supplies for the two, but Hariah was thoughtful. So far, Strider had guessed she knew the intricacies of magic.  It looked like she had to share beyond the Hobbits, but first…

“Frodo, Sam, might I suggest a different way of folding your clothes so that it takes up less room? See, here is a way to keep full sets together - undergarments and all - in one neat package.” She started to pile a set of clothes, allowing Frodo to hand her the layers he counted as a full set, half folding and laying them neatly on top of each other. “Normally, I would use socks to keep it all together, but seeing as you don’t wear any, we just have to get creative.” With that, she started to roll it into one bundle, and took a belt to tie it together. “Since you only seem to have one extra belt a piece, you might want to roll all your sets like this, then bundle them together with the belt. Figure out how many sets will fit across the bottom of your pack and that will be your base. Once that is done, we can figure out everything else.” Strider stared at her, considering something. Before she could speak again, he spoke.

“You are accustomed to travel.” It was not a question, and she gave him a half smile, playing with her cloak clasp.

“I am accustomed to many of things, travel being one of them.” As was war and going without. She grabbed her med kit. “Let me see your wrist. I want to make sure I didn’t damage it with that kick.” He hesitantly held out his arm, and she gave the med kit to Pippin in order to cast a diagnostic charm on his wrist. There was no fracture, but she had bruised it badly. “Pippin, open that kit and hand me the clay pot of grey salve and a clean rag. You’ll have to open the jar to find the right one - I keep forgetting to label them. Strider, it’s just a bruise salve. I ended up badly bruising your wrist - I am sorry, by the way, about that.” She really was. She hadn’t meant to kick him that hard. “The salve will help heal it in a few hours. It should feel better by early morning.” Correct salve in hand, she dabbed some up with the rag, and smoothed it over his wrist, applying two layers, before wrapping the rag around it and tying it off. “The rag will keep the transfer down. That stuff stings like there is no tomorrow if it gets into your eyes. Be thankful you didn’t get a black eye in our scuffle.” Strider nodded his acceptance and thanks and she backed away, turning back to the hobbits.

“Let’s see here, what else can be done here. The food can be wrapped in those handkerchiefs, to help preserve it a little longer and keep more dirt out. That’s about all you have Frodo. Sam, take that extra blanket of yours and wind it between and around your cook ware to help keep them from banging together. Frodo, are you willing to carry the majority of the food that the two of you brought, so that Sam can carry more of his cook ware within his pack? We need to keep the the noise down.” Frodo nodded with a faint smile, and they finished repacking. “Sam, keep that frying pan out - it makes a decent, if improvised, weapon. Hang it off the side of your pack. Bedrolls, oh, yes just like you had them should be fine. Sam, we will need weapons in the wild. What if a rabid or starving wolf attacks? Strider and I are the only ones with real weapons. I know you all boasted about throwing rocks at small prey, but a wolf is different. And don’t think I didn’t see you about to use it as such if I made one wrong move when you four found me on the road.” Sam backed down from where he had been about to protest the improvised weapon comment, and she smirked, before turning back to her clasp. She took a deep breath before turning to Strider.

“We may not have to get two more packs, though I would suggest we get more rations. Frodo said it’s a month to Rivendell, and it’s better to have extra if we don’t find anything on the road, or in the wilds.” Strider nodded in concession, before jumping minutely as her trunk reappeared in her hands. She set it down and opened the wardrobe. “Merry, Pippin, I can shrink some of my clothes to fit the two of you. I even,” she stuck her head under her hanging clothes, searching for her two back up packs, “have two extra packs in here. Somewhere. Just go through the hangers, and only get a few extra changes of clothes, if the second hand stories you’ve told me of your Cousin Bilbo are true, there are not many places to change, let alone wash clothes.” Strider snorted behind her.

“Next to none, with the path I have planned. Roads are too dangerous, so we are sticking to the wilderness as much as possible.” Hariah, hidden as she was, grinned briefly. This was promising to be fun, if they could just lose the damn riders. Packs in hand, she withdrew from her wardrobe. Merry and Pippin each had a two sets of clothes, rolled like she had shown Frodo and Sam.

“May we borrow one of your belts to bundle these with?” Pippin wasted no time in asking, already fingering a sturdy brown belt hanging down the side of her shoe rack on the inside of the right door. She chuckled and nodded, already casting a Resizing Charm at the clothes so that they would fit when they pulled them on. She handed the packs over, before removing two of her extra mess kits, four flint and steel sets, two matchbooks, and four bars of washing soap and laundry soap.

“Here. I noticed, Frodo, Sam, that you two only had matchbooks and small amounts of soap. This soap,” she held up a white bar of soap, “is for washing dishes and such. Just take a knife and shave a few flakes into hot water. That’s all you need for it to work. This soap,” she held up the yellow bar, “is for laundry, body, and hair. It will lather in cold water, and does a good job in cleaning. Now, matchbooks are all good, but they have limited uses and when they’re wet, that’s it. Flint and steel is rather unlimited, and can be used wet, even if it’s a touch more difficult. Your mess kits were in good condition, but I have extra if anything happens.” She noted Strider gazing at her with raised eyebrows. “My guardian and aunt loved to camp. They were also a blacksmith and wood worker. They had friends who knew their soaps. I learned from all of them, and I enjoy making things. I went on a spree a decade ago and made a lot of travel kits, for my friends and those that may have needed to escape the suppression we were going through. I have plenty left over - they included a wash board, two bars of each soap complete with instructions, flint and steel, a couple of matchbooks, a mess kit, some clothes line and pins, and a bed roll. The items were kept in a small pack that also had room for a couple sets of clothes. The actual packs have since been repurposed, but I still have many of these kits items left over.” She handed the remaining items to Merry and Pippin before dumping out her pack.

She opened the left door to her wardrobe and sat in front of the mirror, med kit in her lap. It was time to look at the cut from the rider. She ignored the fact that the Hobbits were watching in concern and Strider in curiosity, and unwound the cloth from her head. She hissed at the vivid bruise showing despite her dark skin, and the fact that the wound was still mostly open. She grabbed a clean cloth from the kit and accepted the glass of water from Sam, and set about to cleaning the wound. She almost dropped the glass when Strider spoke.

“That is going to need stitches. Would you like me to stitch it for you?” She knew it would be better for him to do so, seeing as she would have to deal with slight differences that came from using a mirror. She grabbed the necessary items from the kit and handed them over.

“Please.” She kept her eyes locked on his face, ignoring the pain of the heated needle and pull of the thread. It only took five stitches, but during that time, each Hobbit looked sick. She heard murmurs from them, and understood that they were unused to anything more than humanely killing animals for food. Strider had a pained look on his face, though she did not know if that was from her non-reaction to the pain or his own wrist. He swiftly finished the stitches and sat back, handing her the needle and left over thread. She opened an empty pot and dropped them in, vowing to clean the needle and dispose the thread in the morning. “Thank you,” she whispered softly, turning back to the mirror. She removed a small tube of a blue salve, about the size of a tube of chapstick, and, using a clean rag, dabbed the salve over her cut, ignoring the sting. She took the bruise salve from earlier and used another corner of the rag to dab a couple layers of the salve over the bruise, before taking a roll of bandages and folded handkerchief. In short order, she had wound the bandages around her head and the handkerchief was nothing more than a bulge over the stitches and bruise. She swiftly replaced everything into her med kit and slipped it into her pack.

“So, we just need more rations, yes?” Hariah set about to closing her wardrobe and transfiguring her trunk. Strider hummed an affirmative, and the Hobbits set about getting ready to settle for the night. As they piled up in the bed, she hopped up on the foot of the bed, feet on the trunk on the floor. Strider settled in the chair by the window, hand on his sword, and she set about properly cleaning the Sword of Gryffindor of the horse blood that still splattered it. The light snores and breathing of the Hobbits had filled the air for ten minutes before she nearly nicked herself on her sword.

“You should get some sleep. To hear Pippin tell it, you have not slept since they found you yesterday, and that, according to Merry, was more of you waking up from being unconscious.” She scowled briefly. “I’ll keep watch, if that helps you at all.” Not really. She still did not trust this man, though she got no dark intentions from him.

“No can do, Strider. I still see you as the present danger.” She even managed to sound somewhat apologetic, which she really was, because she was starting to like him.

“You are also a present danger. I will be blunt: you fight like the few assassins and thieves I have dealt with in the past. You taught you? Not many would teach a Woman to fight, though your style is more like how most Women would fight, if they were taught, using the larger sizes of their opponents to their advantage.” He sounded… like he was admiring her. She paused in polishing her wand, a custom job, made of black walnut and rose wood, thirteen inches in length and with a handle looking like molten lava, right down to the colors, though that was due to the magic surrounding the combined core of a Veela hair, a Phoenix feather, and a ground Dragon Scale. With a snort, she returned to her task at hand.

“Trainer. Trainer taught me. They led a dangerous life, and so I only knew them as Trainer.” Actually, while they had led a dangerous life, she actually knew them as MaPa. Steeley McPherson had adopted her, loved her, and given her a home and family, and she was proud of it. Sure, Steeley and their sister, Janie, were actually assassins, but she would not change it for the world. Strider hummed, and she stared at him. “That is all you need to know right now. Just know I can protect both myself and the Hobbits. You only have your sword in case something goes wrong.”

“Of course.” The two fell silent, and Hariah cursed herself for being so harsh. For an hour, the two sat still, each watching the night. Hariah frowned as the hair on her arms stood up, goosebumps raising as she took note of the waves of fear permeating the air. It was not a natural fight-or- flight type fear, but before she could dwell on it, she heard the otherworldly shrieks from last night once more. Despite her stiffness, she was up, sword drawn and and wand in hand, pacing the room, ready to face what ever danger tried to come their way. Strider only shifted his grip and stance, ready to get up if he needed to.

As she stalked the room, Strider explained to the Hobbits about the Nazgûl and their origins. By the time the waves of fear had retreated, she had sheathed her sword and was subtly casting a few wards around the room to help deter any night time visitors. By the time Strider finished, the Protection Ward permeated the air, and relaxed the Hobbits enough to return to sleep.

“We should also try to get some sleep. The main danger has passed, and I think we can ignore each other for a single night of rest.” He looked at her, confused. “Do you always move so swiftly? There was no hesitation, and we had been sitting for over an hour.”

“Hesitation gets one killed. I learned long ago to push away the stiffness. So, why are the Nazgûl hunting Frodo?” Strider turned away, rearranging his pack in front of the banked and slowly dying fire.

“You will have to ask him. It is not my story, nor do I know the full of it.. With the Nazgûl, even the most battle hardened warrior will pause momentarily at the sound - I know I do. Yet you did not. Frodo and Sam even told me how you stood up to one of the nine shortly after you met them - they were explaining how you injured your head. You did not allow fear to control you then either, by the sounds of it.” Strider lay his pack down flat, and flopped down on his back, head on his pack, and pulled his cloak over him like a blanket. “I was not joking; we should try to sleep. There is room on the bed, if you wish to continue to protect the Hobbits from me.” He gave a sarcastic smile, and closed his eyes. She moved to stand near him, staring down. Yes, she could ask Frodo, but they had not built that kind of trust yet, so she would let it be.

“If I sleep at all, it will be back to back with you so that I know the moment you try to move, or I won’t sleep at all. Your choice.” She got the satisfaction of watching Strider twitch at her proximity, and glare up at her, before his expression became amused. _Fucking hell. This bastard is amusing himself because of me. Why? What is so amusing?_

“Fine. You need the sleep.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he rolled onto his side, facing the fire, and she rolled her eyes. Gathering her pack, she set it so that she could use her bed roll as a pillow, before stripping off her sword and long daggers. Finally, she settled on her side at his back, facing the bed, and gripped a dagger in her hand, cloak draped over her like a blanket.

~~*~~*~~

Hariah woke up the next morning, a couple hours before dawn, and a grand total of five hours since she fell asleep, staring down at a bemused Strider, her dagger once more at his throat. She glared huffily at him, not bothering to move just yet as she did a quick examination of their surroundings. The wards were undisturbed and peaceful, the Hobbits were still asleep, and the fire had died off to embers. The morning chill permeated the room, and she quickly cast an _Incendio_ at the fireplace, levitating more wood in to fuel the fire. Soon enough, she knew, the warmth would chase away the chill.

“You know, when you said you would know the moment I moved, I did not expect you to be in motion before you even woke up. I have never seen anyone bring someone down in their sleep, let alone just with their eyes closed. That was impressive.” And he really was impressed, she could tell as she pulled her dagger away from his throat. And entirely amused, now.

“I am going to need a drink with more kick than tea if I am going to survive you and the Hobbits combined. Is there any coffee?” Strider still looked amused.

“Not this far north. I have heard of a similar drink down south, near Harad, called Kafe. It was described as a strong and bitter brew, that was nonalcoholic, though it could be combined with alcohol, that was made from beans.” Hariah hummed.

“That’s what I call coffee. You saying it doesn’t come this far north?” Strider shook his head, and she cursed colorfully. She quickly rose, and grabbed her pack. If she could not have coffee, then she had better get some strong tea starting. Maybe two sachets in a mug would give it enough kick. Three, actually, since one was an herbal tea to stop her cycle. Dropping three bags in, she set some water over the fire to boil.

“I will go see if I can get any mounts, at least, though I will also check to see if I can get any rations, as well. Wake them, please.” She rolled her eyes as Strider left and instead of waking them, went about putting her weapons back on and checking on the stitches. It was healing nicely, and would be completely healed in a sen’night, at the longest. She left her hair alone, not wanting to tangle it in her bandages, and the shrill whistle of the kettle woke the Hobbits.

“Get dressed you four. There’s enough water for a mug of tea each, and here are pre measured tea leaves. Just pour hot water over the sachet, don’t worry about opening it.” She let her tea steep for six minutes, longer than most liked, before removing the sachets and sat down to an overly strong tea. An hour later, Sam had rustled up some breakfast, Strider had not returned, and dawn was closer than it should be with them the fact that they were still in town. Standing, she drained the last of her tea and rinsed her mug.

“I’m going to go find Strider. He’s been gone too long.” She skirted around the Hobbits, accepting a bowl of porridge from Sam as she did, and left the room, long daggers in place on her back. Once outside, she saw that Strider was arguing with someone over near the stables, with the inn keep, Mister Butterbur, looking on nervously. She strode over quickly, and shoved the bowl in Strider’s hands.

“It’s been an hour. What’s going on?” The man Strider had been arguing with leered at her, even as Mister Butterbur spoke up.

“With the appearance of that evil last night, all the animals fled. Well, all but one little pony.” Behind them, she could see a nearly skeletal pony, head hanging sadly, and she felt her anger rise. Quietly, she cut off whatever the unknown man was about to say.

“I know wildlife and domesticated animals alike. It has been long enough that horses and ponies, at the very least, would have returned. I have watched those marvelous creatures outrun natural disaster, only to return the moment it was safe. Something else is keeping those animals away.” The bowl was returned to her, half full, and Strider unobtrusively pulled her back a few steps. She saw why as he turned.

“No matter. As my companion has said, it has been an hour. We need to leave. We will take the pony. How much?” The price was obviously outrageous, judging by the dark expression in Strider’s eyes, as well as the harrumph Mister Butterbur gave. While Strider was dealing with that, Mister Butterbur turned to her.

“It’s unheard of, rooms being attacked like they were last night. I noticed the rooms attacked were yours and the Hobbits’. I see you are fine, but…” She placed her hand on his arm as he started to fret.

“They are safe. I realized the danger before it arrived, and Strider was kind enough to help us, but I did not realize it would attack, or I would have done more. Was anyone harmed?” Mister Butterbur answered in the negative as Strider turned away.

“Come, I’m off to get rations, make sure the others are ready.” Hariah snorted as she gave her farewells and followed.

“At least finish the bowl! I’ll get more up in the room. If you can, I can smell some apples. I know they won’t last, but I know some good travel recipes involving apples.” Strider nodded, and gave her the lead of the pony, as she handed over the bowl. He quickly ate while the walked, and passed it back before speaking again.

“I will see. If they are priced well, then I’ll get some, but I also know where the wild apples grow. I’ll see about oats and cram. It’s not much, and rather flavorless, but it’s filling. And easily supplemented, provided hunting is good, and there are plants for gathering.” Hariah huffed a laugh, and Strider took the lead back from her. “Go.”

Just as the sun broke the horizon, they were leaving through the east gate of the town. Strider was in a foul mood, though she was certain that they were leaving behind people in fouler moods. Strider had disturbed several people in order to buy rations. Sure, by the sounds of it they would have been moving at this time anyway, it was only a half hour in difference, but it seemed like a lot to these people. The man who had sold them the starved pony was waiting for them, clinging to the fence like a child, and throwing out taunts, harmless, until he saw her.

“An’ then there’s this ‘un. Not much o’ a looker, bu’ I guess she’s doin’ somethin’ right, eh lads, iffin she’s travelin’ wi’ five males?” He would have said more, but as she released a knife, Sam scooped up an apple. There were two distinct thunks, and the quivering of her dagger as it stuck in the wood of the fence where his heart had been on the other side - the man now laying on the ground from the apple hitting him in the center of his forehead - was the only sound in the quiet, the few on lookers having fallen deadly silent. She sniffed, and easily yanked her dagger out of the fence, despite the fact that the tip had sunk in a good two and a half inches.

“Why not use a stone, Sam? That was excellent aim, and has the chance to be deadly with a stone. Have you ever used a sling?” Sam shook his head, looking rather shocked that his aim could be used to kill. She tossed the now slightly bruised apple back to Sam, and caught up to Strider as he led the way out of town and into the wilds.

“You do know that they will want to stop in a few hours for Second Breakfast, right?” Strider scoffed at her whispered question.

“As if you would have let them get away with it.” He ignored her as she stopped, looking at his back, affronted. She hadn’t let them put their packs on the pony’s back, named Bill after the Man who had sold it to them. Sam had claimed it was a second chance for the name to be good, and she wholeheartedly approved. But the point was, due to the obvious starvation, she wouldn’t allow too much weight to be put on the poor beast just yet. The rations, just bought and from the packs, as well as the cook ware, put into a separate pack she had brought out on a whim, were all that were on the pony’s back… Oh all right, she would cater to the little Hobbits, but that wasn’t the point! She growled low in her chest as she took up the rear, vowing to say “I told you so,” later.

Sure enough, three hours later, she was struggling not to laugh as the Hobbits started to pull out food and cook ware. Strider looked back exasperatedly.

“Gentlemen, we do not stop until nightfall!” Pippin made an affronted sound, and Frodo looked at her as she knelt down, clutching her sides and wheezing gently. He offered her a hand, and she took it, hauling herself back up, as Strider claimed they had already had breakfast.

“First Breakfast, yes. But what about Second Breakfast?” Strider scoffed and walked off.

“I don’t think he knows about Second Breakfast, Pip,” Merry clapped his younger cousin on the back. Pippin looked at Merry pleadingly.

“But what about Elevensies, Luncheon, Afternoon Tea, Dinner, and Supper. He has to know about those, right?” Sam grimaced at her, remembering their talk yesterday when he had informed her of the meals all Hobbits lived by. She hurried after Strider, struggling to contain her snickers. She watched an apple go sailing through the air, caught by Merry, who passed it to Pippin with a mutter. A second one hit Pippin’s head, and she took off into the trees.

“You beaned poor Pippin in the head, you know.” She caught the few apples that tumbled from Strider’s grasp where he was perched in the trees plucking the fruit. “By the way-”

“I know. You told me so. You need a bell.” He stared at her reproachfully, before handing over the sack of apples. “I figured we could supplement our apple supply.” She chuckled, seeing as the Hobbits had taken to snacking on them.

“I’ve been told that. A set of twins I know strung bells through my hair one night. Still snuck up on everyone. Hadn’t the heart to tell them that bells were part of my training.” She grinned, remembering that night in third year, the second time Sirius Black broke into the castle. The curses had been very enlightening. “They gave it up as a bad job and learned to have a higher awareness of their surroundings.” And there was the affronted look. She gave her signature half smile as the Hobbits caught up.

~~*~~*~~

Two weeks passed in the same routine, and they found themselves at an ancient watchtower that Strider called Weathertop. The two had come to a truce, and worked together to set up a camp that was as safe as possible. She grumbled to herself as she noted her prosthetic was _still_ giving her trouble after the Midgewater Marshes. She and Strider set the Hobbits half way up the watch tower with some long daggers that were really short swords for them, and went to scout.

They were examining the path ahead for signs of wildlife and other travelers when she first felt the trickle of fear. She turned around in the middle of the path and drew her sword, left hand going to one of her daggers at her thigh.

“Hariah, wha-”

“Nazgûl. Back towards Weathertop. Come on!” She took off, barely hearing the muttered curse from Strider as he went to catch up. They were three quarters of the way back when they heard shriek that she was quickly finding tiring. With a muffled oath, they sped up. She took note of the abandoned camp and freshly covered fire as they passes, and reached the top just in time to watch five Nazgûl surround and pick apart the Hobbits. Merry and Pippin were flung to one side, Sam to the other. She didn’t let herself dwell on the fact that they did not move as she followed Strider, who immediately set fire to one of the Nazgûl, and she followed, focusing on the two that turned to her. She barely noted Strider engaging a fourth, as the Nazgûl were actually decent fighters, meeting her strike for strike. But she noted the poison coating her sword was doing its job, even as she blocked and was blocked alike. The metal was starting to disintegrate. Fed up, she tossed her two blades, the sword ending up in her left as she caught her dagger in her right, and channeled her magic through it. A thought later, and dark fire, Fiendfyre, burst from the tip of the dagger, burning the two in front of her. She cut off the connection, dousing the fire immediately, and noting Strider setting fire to the fourth, when she heard Frodo scream.

Instinctually, she pushed her magic back through the dagger, this time casting her Patronus. Her silvery stag burst forth, and ran down the fifth Nazgûl, who fled. Frodo reappeared on the ground, clutching at his shoulder, as Prongs nuzzled the other three. She looked at her dagger, taking note of the crack running through the metal - she would need to melt down and recreate this dagger, but she had expected it. Magic as dark as Fiendfyre, followed by magic as light as the Patronus charm was not meant to flow through the same vessel without many neutral spells to buffer them.

Prongs bowed his head to her before vanishing, and Merry and Pippin bracketed her as Sam led Bill the Pony over to Strider, who was binding Frodo’s shoulder. She was impressed that Bill had not fled, as he, while not at full health, was healthier than when they bought him.

“Are there any other injuries?” Four heads shook in reply to her quiet question, and she knelt down opposite Strider, who was examining the blade that had been left behind by the Nazgûl. Oddly enough, the tip was missing, and she stared at it blankly. That meant the tip was in Frodo’s shoulder, and that was pretty dangerous - she was no healer, so she would not be able to remove the tip.

“It is a Morgul Blade.” Strider had noticed her stare, and held it to the side as the blade disintegrated. “When one is struck by such a blade as this, it poisons the wounded, turning them into a lesser Wraith. The more grievous the injury, the quicker it is said to work.” Pippin curled in further, and Merry gripped the back of her jerkin. Sam laid a hand on Frodo’s brow.

“So… what can we do?” Hariah pulled back and glanced at Pippin, Merry tightening his grip with a slightly amused huff. Sam looked up, silently backing Pippin’s question.

“We need to find two plants, or rather a plant and a bark. The bark can be brewed into a tea, Willowbark. Whenever we see a tree, we need to gather some bark. Hariah, will you be able to keep it fresh?” Hariah nodded with a half smile; if she could do so safely, she would place Frodo under a Stasis Charm. However, that charm was not meant to be used on living creatures. It would only buy him two days maximum, and it would be fatal if it wore off. “Good. Sam, do you know the Athelas plant?” Sam looked confused, and she narrowed her eyes. She was certain Professor Sprout had talked about this plant. Athelas was often thought of as a weed, and called- “Kingsfoil, perhaps?” Sam’s expression brightened.

“Aye, tis a weed!” Strider grimaced, and she suppressed her chuckle. It used to be the main ingredient in a specialized Healing Potion, but the potion was no longer taught, due to the plant going extinct long ago. She found an old tome with the potion, and she had long ago translated it, but she hadn’t had all the ingredients to try it. Maybe now she could…

“Keep an eye out, we will need it, and it is the best hope for Frodo out here. His highest hope will be Lord Elrond, he is beyond my healing abilities right now.” Sam nodded, and they removed the rations and cookware from Bill’s back, Frodo taking their place. She put a Sticking Charm and Stabilizing Charm on him to keep him from falling. A blanket was wrapped around him as he started to shiver. The cookware and rations were divided, and they were off, despite it being the middle of the night.

“Pippin, whatever your thinking, stop. It is not your fault, okay?” Pippin nodded, looking downcast, and went to walk next to Bill, while she walked next to Strider.

“How much longer to Rivendell?” Strider glanced back at the Hobbits before looking at her, his eyes distantly sad.

“A fortnight. If we hurry, it may be shorter. The magic you use to keep things fresh, could you do that for Frodo?” She grimaced.

“That spell is not for use on living creatures. It would buy him two days maximum, but I would have to monitor him closely, as it is fatal should it be allowed to wear off. I can remove it safely, once. If he is placed under it multiple times…” Hariah grimaced. It was something she had seen in her time as a prisoner, and it was nowhere near pretty. She still got nightmares if she thought about it. “Well, safe to say, it’s not something that should be done. I would rather not do it once, if we don’t have to, but if we need to, I can disappear and reappear in a different spot, so long as there are no wards preventing me from arriving.” Strider shook his head and she raised her hands in the universal _Fine_ gesture. “Now, that injury has the potential to be grievous. How long do we have?” It was Strider’s turn to grimace.

“I do not know. I have not seen this kind of injury in my time as a Ranger. I have heard tell of it happening to a dwarf when I was a child, but he was healed by an elf, only to die in battle.” Hariah nodded and slipped back to the rear.

~~*~~*~~

They moved fast and long. Strider got them moving before dawn broke, and did not let them stop until hours past nightfall. She encouraged it, even as she started to chafe from going unwashed and hurt from not letting the scar tissue on her leg rest. One thing she had not told the Hobbits was that the leg she currently had was her second best leg, as she had been working on her best leg in her work shop.

They did not talk beyond short commands and whispered words. Whenever they found a willow tree, they gathered some bark, being careful not to damage the tree, and Hariah stocked her kit with it. When Strider and Sam found the Athelas, she nearly did a jig, telling them to gather all of it so that she could have a good store in her kit for future need. Merry and Pippin were quiet as she taught them to track danger while on the move as Strider taught Sam how to care for Frodo’s shoulder.

A sen’night into the faster travels found them closer to Rivendell than they would have been at their previous pace. They were currently scrambling off the road into the surrounding woods just before dawn, having heard the approaching thunder of hooves. Strider pushed the Hobbits further back, checked her position, and, had she not been watching, she would have not found him as quickly, as he blended in quite well. The approaching riders came around the bend, and Hariah got her first look. These riders had an ethereal glow about them, and they struck her as angelic, almost, where the Nazgûl were demonic. One had wavy hair that was as dark as the night sky, with an oval face that shone like a full moon. Her eyes sparkled like starlight, and Hariah found herself mesmerized. Her companion, however, was golden. He had golden hair that fell straight down his back, and a golden skin tone. They were wearing trousers and tunics, simple things, but she felt like she should be bowing to royalty. As they came closer, she noted they had pointed ears - not like the Hobbits had, with their large, leaf shaped ears, but dainty things, small, with needle like points, a little larger than her own.

_“Elves.”_ The word was breathed, and came from Sam, she noted, taking in his awed face even as she gently pinched him for speaking. Turning back, she pinched herself as she nearly swore until she was blue in the face. Strider, the _imbecile_ , had jumped into the road with a large grin. Without thinking, she growled in Bulgarian under her breath.

_“If he gets his arse run over, I will flay them, elves or not. He may be annoying, but dammit, he’s good to have around.”_ Sam pinched her, and only grinned as she turned to him annoyed. She rolled her eyes and drew her long daggers as she jumped out into the path after Strider.

“Who are you?” Strider turned with nary a flinch, even as the two elves froze briefly. Now that she was closer, she could see that the she-elf actually had dark chocolate eyes, while she first thought the he-elf was blind, his eyes were that pale of a blue. A longer look, however, proved that wrong, and she noted they were Alice blue. The male stepped forward, ignoring the twitch of her dagger, and placed his hand over his heart.

“ _May govannen,_ traveler.” He performed a short bow, before righting himself. Hariah allowed herself a moment to feel disgusted at herself - even his voice reminded her of a dark golden honey, though she did detect a steel undercurrent. “I am Glorfindel, and this is Arwen Undómiel.” The now-named Arwen performed her own bow, complete with a soft _Mae govannen._ “We left Imladris nine days ago to search for Estel.” She lowered her daggers slightly, allowing the tips to dip towards the ground.

“Elucidate.” Strider frowned at her, and she grimaced. No, she was not about to be polite. Manners were for those who could handle you at your worst. Arwen stepped forward.

“Imladris is known as Rivendell in Westron. Estel is your traveling companion here. He has gained many names, though he will forever be Estel to us.” She gave him a fond smile, like an older sister who was indulging a younger brother. Hariah rolled her eyes, having seen the same smile on Lee’s face many times over the last twenty seven years. She turned, sheathing her daggers, and made her way back to where she had left the Hobbits. Even her voice reminded her of the stars - soft and chiming, like tiny bells, all ringing in harmony, and not at all cacophonous, like some bells get.

With the Hobbits with them, she tended to Frodo and Bill with a frown. Bill needed a break, they all did, but Frodo was fading fast. Too fast. She wiped away the sweat that had gathered, thankful they had been able to get liquids into him. Pippin pressed in close, surveying his cousin and Merry stood strong next to Sam on the other side of Bill. The elves and Strider were whispering in another language even as they rearranged things, putting packs on the grey mare Arwen had ridden. But…

“Strider, come look at this.” Her voice was even, but Pippin had spotted what she had - Frodo was becoming translucent. It was very faint, just beginning, but they were losing him. Strider and Arwen gasped, while Glorfindel produced a flask, handing it to her.

“It’s Miruvor. It will help him, but only a small sip. Pass it around, you could all use it.” Hariah glanced at Strider, who nodded briefly, before turning to give some to Frodo, and passed the flask to Sam. It soon wound up back with her, as Strider handed it to Pippin who handed it to her. Already, Frodo was looking better, still pale, but no longer translucent, and she watched asStrider transferred him to Glorfindel’s mount, a strong grey stallion. Merry, Pippin, and Sam all looked less tired, more like they could run all day, and perhaps all night as well, and she took her sip, eyes locked on a silently laughing Glorfindel. She stopped herself from making a noise of appreciation. Miruvor, it seemed, was like mead and a Pepper Up combined. Energy flowed through her as the drink warmed her from the inside, better than chocolate ever did after dealing with Dementors. She handed the flask back to Glorfindel, who winked at her as he tucked it away.

“You are a fighter. I can tell. Tiny Warrior, and so suspicious, too.” She growled, turning away, even as Pippin huffed in amusement - the only time he had done so since they had seen the Trolls in the Trollshaws. She still could not believe that a single Hobbit had talked three trolls, even if they were not as big as the mountain trolls she had faced, into arguing all night without them turning on him. Arwen pinched Glorfindel.

“Come, we must hurry. Six of the Nine are closing in, the other three are behind them, but quickly catching up. Why they are separated like that, I do not know, but we are a couple days from the borders.” Hariah sighed, happy with the knowledge that they were so close. Pippin, on the other hand, choked on his laughter, thankfully turning it into a coughing fit. She pushed him up with Merry and Sam who were leading Bill. Arwen was leading the stallion, and Strider had the mare in back with her.

“I forgot you do not speak Sindarin, or I would have spoken Westron to include you in the planning earlier. Frodo is on Asfaloth, the fastest, and if they catch up, Arwen will ride Asfaloth, being the fastest rider, on to Rivendell.” There was no need to ask who _they_ were.

“And if she is caught?” Strider glanced at her.

“If she is caught, she will give herself up and send Asfaloth alone. He knows the way. Oasis here, if anything happens, will guide Bill to Rivendell. Glorfindel and I can get the four of you there.” Hariah shook her head.

“I remember Frodo’s map. If anything happens, leave me, I can fend for myself and find my way. You would be able to catch up with Arwen, and she can take my place. I never told you, but I have a prosthetic leg. It’s been acting up since the Marshes, and the scar tissue is still raw enough, even after five years, that it’s flaring. I will stay as long as I can, but if I say the word, you must promise to leave me.” Strider glared at her, and what followed had to be the quietest argument she had ever had in her life - she being partial to screaming matches as a way to let out all the negative energies. By lunch, they had devolved to throwing pebbles at each other as they walked on opposite sides of the road, putting as much space between each other as they could. By the time they set up camp, however, they had reached another truce, and worked together to quickly produce seasonings for dinner, neither being trusted to hunting right now.

~~*~~*~~

This was it. Arwen had gone ahead with Frodo and Asfaloth, the Nine making chase - and that had been an amusing sight, seeing six of the Nine doubled up on three mounts. They were making torches, and Glorfindel had lost all of his joking manner. Strider was watching her closely, having been supporting much of her weight when the pain started to get to her. The Hobbits were oddly stone faced, and she found herself wanting to tell them to stop that, that they had no business looking so grim, but she didn’t.

She quickly lit the torches at Glorfindel’s signal, and they jumped out behind the riders as the river marking the borders of Rivendell started to swell. She caught sight of the water forming horses even as she drew a dagger that she charged with a dark curse, and threw it, hitting the rump of a horse, causing the curse to go off. She bared her teeth in an imitation of a grin as fire spread outwards quickly, but the final push that made the Nazgûl flee into the raging waters was Glorfindel’s presence. It filled her with light, and made her feel guilty for using dark magic. She pushed the guilt away, and watched the black forms of the mounts and riders wash down stream, getting battered into rocks, with an odd sense of fear and satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 1/24/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.


	4. Chapter 3: News From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get the rest of the way to Rivendell, Hariah has to deal with bathtubs, and Fred and George appear with bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder:  
> "Talking"  
> 'Thinking' - in Italics  
> Telepathic - in Italics, no quotation marks  
> "Talking" - in Italics indicates Elvish when in Middle Earth  
> "Talking" - in Bold indicates Dwarvish when in Middle Earth  
> Any talking done in Italics or Bold done by Hariah or anyone from Earth will be emphasis, unless otherwise noted. If they are using a different language, I will use Google Translate and put the translation in the end notes, for most languages. Some languages, I will state what they were speaking in, but write in English.
> 
> As of 2/1/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.

With a huff, she walked to the bank and plopped down on a rock, hand automatically moving to the straps wrapping around her left leg underneath the leather. She wouldn’t be able to wear her prosthetic for a week after this, most likely. Sam, Merry, and Pippin gathered around her, each acting as skittish as she felt this close to the river. Strider and Glorfindel were muttering to each other as they made sure Oasis and Bill were settled. She could feel their eyes burning the back of her neck as she started to hum the same tune Fred and George hummed, and the tune she had belted a drinking song to four years ago.

Ten minutes later, she and Pippin were arguing over the lyrics, while Merry and Sam talked about their favorite drinks.

“Hey, Ho! To the bottle I go; to heal my heart and drown my woe: Rain may fall and Wind may blow, but there still be many miles to go! Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain, and the stream that falls from hill to plain. But better than rain or a rippling brook, is a beer of mug inside the Cook!” Pippin glared at her as she muffled her curses as she finished singing. She never could say _a mug of beer_ when stone cold sober.

“No, no, no! It’s a _mug of beer inside this Took!_ Come on Hariah, sing it right, if you sing it at all!” Merry snickered and she pinched his side, even as she glared right back at Pippin.

“Pip, four years ago, on my twenty-sixth birthday, and the first year of peace after the ten year war, I cooked a large meal for my friends, we ate and got piss drunk, and I belted that song to a tune my heart brothers had been humming since I met them when I was nine. That is the only version I know, and Merlin help me, I am going to sing it to the day I die, watch me.” Sam grabbed her jerkin and Merry flopped down over her legs, causing her to hide a flinch from the pain. Pippin stood up, taking a rare chance to loom over her.

“No, don’t die! You have to meet Bilbo, and then you have to come home, because I know my sisters and cousins would… love…” Pippin trailed off, taking in her grin. “That’s mean. That’s really mean.” She fell back, laughing, as Glorfindel strode forward to gaze at the river, and Strider sat down beside them. Pippin sat down in a huff, and she turned to Strider, who was frowning at her.

“Yes?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice, and she did nothing to hide it. 

“Your magic gave a wave of… Glorfindel described it as empty and cold, with a hint of danger and death. And I felt it too, barely. I didn’t realize it wasn’t from the Nazgûl until Glorfindel pointed it out to me.” Strider stopped, and watched Glorfindel’s golden blonde hair as it swayed gently in the breeze. Hariah sneered briefly, before sighing. Of course this would come up.

“Look, war is not pretty, and in an extreme war between Light and Dark that lasts ten years, one can forget the reason they’re fighting. I fell into the trap of Dark Magic - it’s addictive, and does not like to let go.” She took a breath, and gazed at the three Hobbits staring at her sadly. Merry had finally gotten off of her legs, and the three were sitting side by side, all with a hand gently resting on some limb or another. “I cherish knowledge, don’t forget that. Knowledge is power, and power is the strength to fight back. It started innocently enough - I was researching the spells I had heard in battle from the Dark Witches and Wizards we were fighting, trying to find out what they did and if there were cures for some of the effects. It was difficult, because most of the time, all I had were wand motions - if that, as it was all fast paced - spell lights, and effects. Many motions and lights are shared between these Dark Magics, so I actually had to learn to use them to find out which ones were used.” Her gaze left the Hobbits and turned to Glorfindel, who was standing ramrod straight, obviously listening in. She turned to face Strider directly. “Like I said, Dark Magic is addictive. I consider myself to be a strong person. I thought I had the strength to resist the addiction. It wasn’t until my godson ran from me in fear that I realized what I had become. In my weakness, I threw away my foci, temporarily stripping myself of the focused and intricate magics. I was down to my base emotions, and in the chaos of my magic being unfocused, I was captured. I was sitting there, in the middle of my magical storm, sobbing my heart out, and I was captured. For two years, I was a prisoner of war, my only saving grace was that my magic had sought to protect me, obscuring my identity to all who tried to find it. I presented a mystery, and therefore, I lived. Strider, I told myself, a month into that piece of hell, that if I ever got out of there, I would not use Dark Magic except in dire situations. I don’t think any of you noticed that I was using magic during those two skirmishes with the Nazgûl, but nothing but Dark Magic would affect them, this I swear.” With these final words, she flopped back down, bringing an arm over her face. Pippin leaned down to rest against her abdomen, while Sam kept a hand clenched in her jerkin. Merry huffed, before starting a conversation about food, Sam and Pippin jumping in. She could hear Glorfindel and Strider talking in the flowery language of the Elves, and she mentally rolled her eyes. 

Thirty minutes later, Glorfindel tapped her foot. She twitched her arm so that she could gaze at him questioningly.

“The river has calmed enough that we can swim across. Come.” The Hobbits jumped up, having stopped their conversation on family lines to listen, horror spreading across their faces.

“Hobbits can’t swim, as a general rule, you know.” Ah Merry, blunt as always. “We sink right off.” Glorfindel cocked his head to the side.

“So, with three non swimmers and three swimmers, it all evens out. Oasis will carry the packs and lead Bill, and we three,” he gestured between himself, Strider, and Hariah, “will rescue swim you three,” here he waved a hand towards the three Hobbits, “across the river.” Strider nodded, accepting the job, and Pippin turned horrified eyes on her, while Sam stared as Glorfindel, and Merry frowned at Strider.

“Tell them, Hariah. Please?” She placed her hand over Pippin’s eyes, having also sat up in horror.

“Glorfindel, there are four non swimmers - not only am I terrified of waters such as rivers, ponds, lakes, oceans, and bathtubs, but I cannot submerge my prosthetic leg for prolonged periods of time - it’s still messed up from the marshes.” Glorfindel looked horrified, and she almost laughed at his expression, before realizing it was for the same reason Strider had been horrified - what if something had gone terribly wrong? “Look, if anything had gone wrong with it, I would have sent you ahead with as many protective charms as I could get away with. I can fend for myself, and I remembered Frodo’s map. A lone, lame female does not scream danger, and while I would have been in danger of being robbed, if such people are roaming these areas, most would only see a defenseless woman needing help, okay?” This was not the right thing to say. Strider dumped his water skin over her, and she froze.

“That would not have made things easier. We would have been distracted by worry.” She spluttered, before pushing Strider’s shoulder.

“Either way, we wait for it to be low enough that these three can walk fairly easily, perhaps chest high at the deepest. And we all need to hold onto each other. My brother swims a lot and tells me stories of rocks shifting and causing drop offs.” Glorfindel nodded, and gracefully folded himself by her feet.

“Of course. Will that cause trouble for your leg? And may I examine your leg, make sure the prolonged use of the prosthetic has not damaged the stump?” She stared at him, with an eyebrow raised. Someone understood prosthetics. Or perhaps what passed as prosthetics here.

“It will cause no more trouble than what I’ve already been dealing with, though I may have to change the leg once we cross. I did not do so before as that would be a simple peg leg, versus this more elaborate one I’ve made. You sure you wish to examine it here? The straps go up my thigh and I recall the reaction last time I just stripped down.” She grinned at Sam, who blushed. Merry and Pippin, being the more adventurous of the three, just grinned.

“If any o’ ya think it needs ta be assessed, then there will be no reaction from me. Ya said it did not hurt ya, an’, well, travel does something to us all, iffin ya know what I mean.” Sam’s blush did not subside, but he stared her determinedly in the eyes, marking just how much he had changed. With a sigh, she stood and stripped her trousers, curious despite herself - and glad for her knee length leather under trousers, soft leather lined with even softer cotton to prevent severe chafing and help guard against the straps digging into her skin too much.

“Pippin, go get my med kit. I will need the brown clay pot with the rose pink salve inside and several clean clothes - wash your hands first!” Pippin scurried off. “Sam, can you make sure he doesn’t destroy the kit again? Thank you.” She had removed the stitches shortly before the Nazgûl attack, and Pippin, while trying to be helpful, had ruined all organization in the kit. “Merry, can you fill those two mugs with water from the river? I might as well have a cold compress ready if I do remove this leg.” The stump below her knee was covered in padded clothes, the braided straps crisscrossing over these, her knee, and up her thigh. Glorfindel gestured to the buckles, and she undid them, hissing quietly as the pressure released - she had not removed this since Bree, and her leg was now screaming at her.

Glorfindel gently pulled the leg off, murmuring in surprise at how light it was as he set it aside, and she peeled back the cloths, not surprised to find the site inflamed. She would have to go ahead and use the other leg, then move to crutches after the river. Merry set the mugs down next to her, and she heated one to boiling.

“Merry, in the front pouch of my pack is a cloth bag made of scarlet and gold fabrics. I will need that.” Merry scampered off again as Pippin and Sam walked back arguing quietly about various medical plants. The soothing salve, made from mint to sooth pains and roses and lavender to sooth senses, next to her, she wet a rag in the now warm water, having added some of the cold to it, and quickly wiped down her stump. It was stitched as neatly as it could be, and did not look at all horribly gruesome, but the sight of it missing still caused Sam and Pippin to flinch.

“A clean cut,” Strider murmured while Glorfindel gently tapped the skin, watching her reactions. She snorted.

“A high cut, you mean, considering the damage was to the ankle. It had been left to rot, though.” Strider turned a light green at the gills, and she gave a huffing laugh, wrapping a cold compress around the stump while Glorfindel examined the prosthetic. Merry plopped down, holding her requested item, and she held out her hand.

She may have called her back up a peg leg, but she’d be damned if she ever made something to be simple. A leather harness, meant to go around and under the stump, was removed first, along with a smaller bag of screws and a flathead screwdriver. Then came several pieces of wood, and she quickly slotted them together to make three poles, each an inch in diameter. Screws held the pieces in place, and she attached them to the harness.

“Well, any true damage?” Glorfindel shook his head, before hesitating. 

“Well, not right now. I would suggest no prosthetic once we cross - I have seen people use two canes to get around with one leg…” She raised her hand, stopping him.

“I have something similar. I can’t wear this harness for long anyway.” She took her first prosthetic, and started to break it down, making note of the maintenance and repairs she had to do, before putting the pieces into the bag. “How long until we can cross?” Glorfindel and Strider gazed out at the river and conferred briefly while she moved on to putting the salve over the stump, hissing and sighing as it stung and burned. Pippin, and _oh_ how he reminded her of her little Teddy, curled up under her right arm, and Sam helped her with the rags, while Merry took things from them to her pack.

“Maybe another hour to an hour and a half.” They turned back around as she attached the new prosthetic and pulled her trousers back on, wobbling slightly as her balance adjusted. Looking down, she sighed at the loose leather, before shrugging and limping a few steps to get everything to settle. She gave her half smile as Pippin followed her, remembering Teddy doing the same as she was first recovering five years ago. Glorfindel and Strider were busy hiding their smiles at the sight, and Sam rolled his eyes as Merry huffed.

~~*~~*~~

Crossing the river was difficult, despite everyone grabbing the cloak of the person in front of them. Glorfindel and Oasis led, followed by Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Hariah, with Strider and Bill behind. As Pippin stepped off the rockiest part in the middle, the rock itself shifted, and Pippin went down, taking Merry and Hariah with him. Glorfindel’s long reach over Sam’s head, as well as Strider’s grip on her cloak kept them from getting separated, but it still gave them a scare, and once on shore, the three collapsed, Sam patting their backs in sympathy. Ten minutes later, Merry and Pippin were scrambling up as she removed her prosthetic. With it dried and collapsed, she but it back into her pack, slapping at Strider's hand as he went to take it, and twisted the screw-like ends together on her forearm crutches, swung her pack onto her back, then allowed herself to be helped from the ground.

"Never again. If _anyone_ attempts to get me near another body of water, including a bathtub, I will hurt them. Severely. Just, no." She caught Glorfindel smiling as he turned to face the path, and resisted the urge to throw a jinx at him.

"We are, at most, two days walk from Imladris proper. If we hurry, though not to the extent as before, and take shortcuts, we can make it by tomorrow, late afternoon." Hariah hummed, shifting her grip on the crutches. Pippin and Merry watched her as Sam chuckled at their antics. With a glare, she sent them a head of her, following Glorfindel, and Strider joined her behind them.

"They just worry. We all do at this point. How long can you go on those canes?"

"Forearm crutches. And as long as I need to. I prefer these over the back up prosthetic from earlier. The only thing I hate is the fact that my trouser leg swings free." The pain must have finally started to affect her - she normally didn't share that with people, though Sam was right, traveling like they had been changes a person some. "I can fight like this, though I feel it won't be necessary here. The protective wards are strong. Foreign, which is a given, but strong." She gazed at Strider, who, for once, did not appear on high alert. Bill was up with Sam, and Oasis was on her other side, taking no direction, but following along.

"You are right. There is very little chance of being attacked here. At least, it depends on if Lord Elrond's twin sons are stalking the woods or not. They like to prank people, traveler's especially. Glorfindel often participates, so we won't be getting any warning from him." He made a, presumably, rude sign at Glorfindel, who had been watching them as he walked backwards. Glorfindel, she noted, was also less alert than he had been.

"You like to do the same thing to travelers, Estel!" The Hobbits chuckled, and she raised an eyebrow at Strider.

"I am going to be dealing with pranking twins, at least two sidekicks, _and_ the enthusiasm of Merry and Pippin? Merlin save my soul, because no one will save my skin, will they?" Strider's chuckle was low and rough as he tapped her shoulder blade.

"Depending on her mood, Arwen might. Her betrothed, Legolas, most definitely will - if only to drag you into a war against them." She snorted, swinging herself around to walk backwards, ignoring the aborted motions everyone made to steady her if she fell, as she got ahead of Strider.

"That sounds fun." Strider's eyes widened briefly, then he smirked.

"Hear that, Glorfindel? She wasn't really worried. We have to be careful." Glorfindel's light chuckle floated back to her, riding over the waves of sound created by Sam's groan and Merry and Pippin's snickers.

"The twins will be pleased. They love new fodder." Hariah scoffed and used a crutch to fling a rock at Glorfindel. The resultant cursing and glaring at the group had them all in stitches.

"I refuse to be fodder. I am a legacy, and they will learn." And they would. She was the mastermind behind a lot of the prank items Fred and George sold. She was also the one who did most of the production. But they didn’t need to know that just yet.

~~*~~*~~

Their first look at Rivendell proper was actually from below ground level. The architecture looked, at this angle, to be very open, and her fingers itched to hold a camera. The trees, however, caused a double take. The colors said mid autumn, but it should have been late summer or early autumn. She had been keeping a close eye on the days, and it was early September. She sighed as she realized she had missed sending Teddy off to his second year of Hogwarts... if everything was alright. As she observed, she almost missed hearing three horses approach. Pippin tapped on her arm, and she turned back to the path, noting Arwen's return, minus Frodo, plus two identical looking elves. The defining feature that told them apart at that distance was the fact that one had a brown tunic, and the other had a green tunic. They're hair was only a little lighter than Arwen's, and their weather tanned faces showed some sort of strained joy at the sight of their group. Glorfindel chuckled and glanced at Strider, who, as she saw as she also turned to him, was glaring at the golden-haired elf. Glorfindel proceeded to ignore the Ranger and turned to the Hobbits gleefully.

"Those two are Arwen's brothers, Elrohir and Elladan. My advice, don't actively try to tell them apart. They like confusing people, and even we elves have trouble telling them apart. However, Estel here did not like being unable to tell them apart." Glorfindel danced back as Strider started towards him. Hariah grabbed his arm, and pulled him back. "Estel had the bright idea to use fabric dye to dye one of the twins another color. It was a brilliant idea, to be sure, it's hard to mix people up when one is a different color, but the execution of said plan, well, let's say it could have gone better." Hariah stifled her laughter, figuring out what had happened, and she leaned into Strider, forcing him to hold her up and not chase the elf. The three riders were closer, and obviously grinning. "Estel snuck into Elladan's bathing chambers and dumped the dye into the tub, even as Elladan did his best to escape. Unfortunately, for both of them, Elladan was not fast enough to get out of the water in time, and Estel was not quick enough to dodge the resulting splashes of died water. So Elladan was almost completely green, while Estel had green splotches for several weeks." Merry and Pippin were close to rolling on the ground, while Sam glanced around ruefully. She quickly straightened up as the three elves dismounted. Automatically, she started to catalogue the differences. The one on the left, in the brown tunic, had his hair braided down in front of his ears, and seemed to be slightly more reserved, while the other one, in the green tunic, had his hair braided down behind his ears and was more open. To her shock, they both had mismatched eyes. She had heard of it happening, but she had never seen it. Both elves had one azure eye and one chocolate brown eye. She lightly elbowed Strider.

"I have a better way to turn someone a different color, and it's not a spell, if you want to try again." Strider huffed and let go of her as Arwen dismounted and hurried over. She briefly saw Glorfindel move to talk with the twins before Arwen was right in front of her, hands on her hips and a frown upon her face.

"When were you going to say you had a prosthetic leg? How long has it been bothering you? Is this just some kind of preventative measure, or did you injure your leg further, or worse, break the prosthetic? And how did I not notice you had a prosthetic?" Strider chuckled as he walked off, abandoning her to the irate elf.

"Arwen, stop. I lost my leg five years ago. As I healed, I designed a couple different prosthetics, with the final goal to be one that looked just like a real leg when it was covered. And I mean shaped like a real leg, ankle, and foot, complete with the same movement ranges. The result was wooden 'bones' and metal 'muscles' held together with moving parts and helped by magic imbued into the materials. That's why you didn't know. I did not break the prosthetic, the water does it very little good, even though it washed away the grit still mucking it up from the marshes. I have not taken it off in a month, so the stump was getting irritated, but nothing more. I wasn't going to say anything if I could help it. I didn't need to slow us down. Are we good now? Can we continue on so that we can get back to Frodo sooner?" Hariah did her best to keep her voice steady and not betray her irritation and exhaustion, but some of it seeped into her tone, and Arwen frowned.

"We can talk about this in a few days. Come, meet my brothers." Arwen placed a hand over her shoulder blade and nudge Hariah forward. The twins stopped talking and turned to them, placing their hands over their chests and bowing slightly.

_"Mae govannen."_ Hariah cocked her head, making note to ask someone what the language was and what that phrase meant. The elf in the brown tunic continued to speak as they straightened back up. "My name is Elrohir, son of Elrond. Welcome to Imladris. My brother, Elladan, and I, along with our sister Arwen, were discussing paths earlier, and wanted to know everyone's opinion." Elladan stepped forward to lean against Estel, who glanced at him before turning back.

"There are many different ways to get to Imladris. One is the main path, which we are not far from, though it is the slower path, taking you through some of our more prominent views. Taking that one will give take us three to four days at a regular pace." Hariah glanced at the Hobbits, who had all, quite unconsciously it would seem, pulled faces at the thought. "The other path is through the woods, bypassing the views, but getting us there by tomorrow, sometime around dinnertime. It is a little more difficult of a path, though." Elladan glanced at Hariah's forearm crutches. Hariah glared at him, before glancing once more at the Hobbits. At the mention of it being a difficult path, they had turned to watch her worriedly, as if she might collapse at any given moment.

"If Sam, Merry, and Pippin think they can handle the wooded path, we should go that way. We can, once we are able to see with our own eyes that Frodo is safe, look at the views later." She turned back to the elf and held her head tall. She was balanced on her right leg, both crutches barely touching the ground as she stared Elladan down. Glorfindel and Strider were stifling their laughs as they led Oasis and Bill to the three new horses, having off loaded their packs. Arwen patted each animal, and they trotted off. Elladan nodded reluctantly.

"Let one of us know if you need any help, please. The path is tricky." Hariah snorted. She could run obstacle courses on these, she would be fine. "Also, you and Estel are hereby relieved from any sort of watch or hunt duties. You two and the Hobbits will relax, the four of us will take care of everything else. No arguments. It has been a month, you need a break." It was Elladan's turn to stare her down, but he had the added advantage of having Elrohir, Glorfindel, and Arwen behind him doing the same thing. She glanced at Strider, and the two rolled their eyes.

"Fine," she muttered, glaring at the elves. With a quick, decisive nod, Elladan turned and took the lead with Glorfindel. She let the Hobbits filter by, before Arwen poked her in the back.

"You and Strider do not get the rear. Go." She quickly maneuvered herself forward, falling in step beside Strider, and flicking a pebble at his feet. She heard a soft snort from behind when Strider sent one back at her, and the game was on. The two spent the rest of the day flicking pebbles at the others, to the amusement of Arwen.

That evening, as they approached camp, the four Elves glared at the two humans. Hariah grinned in response and started to walk around the clearing, inspecting it and subtly casting her own protection wards. She distractedly avoided Arwen’s grasp, only to yelp quietly as Glorfindel grabbed her up to deposit her next to Sam and Merry on the log by a large rock near where they had entered the clearing. She sighed, even as she picked out the sound flowing water.

“No. You have done enough, and almost too much. Let us take care of things. Rest and relax as much as possible.” She caught sight of the twins snickering as they left camp. Glorfindel snapped his fingers, drawing her attention back to him. “Got it?” Strider huffed from where he was sitting on the edge of the rock, talking quietly with Pippin about… food? She huffed a sigh, and nodded in irritation, before jumping back up as Glorfindel retreated.

“If I cannot help with camp, then I will do laundry. I am sure we,” she gestured between herself, the Hobbits, and Strider, “could really all use at least one clean set of clothes.” The rock Strider had been perched upon was shaped like a tub and was actually clean inside. Strider bounced up and grabbed two of the buckets that were hidden in the bushes by the rock, which told her this clearing was regularly used as a campsite. Sam and Merry also grabbed buckets, and Arwen sighed, pointing towards the running water even as she started the fire for dinner preparations.

“Just bring me back at least two buckets worth, please?” Strider hummed, and led the small procession as Arwen gave her a stink eye. “You do not understand relaxation, do you?” Hariah grinned as Pippin chuckled and headed towards their packs to gather laundry. Hers joined the pile on a flat rock beside the basin, as did four bars of laundry soap and her wash board.

“What’s for dinner, Arwen?” Pippin perked up, and Arwen chuckled.

“It does depend on what my brothers manage to trap, but we will have stew. I have dried venison if they are unlucky, though we might have roast hare to go with it, and maybe some fish if Glorfindel finds any. Wild vegetables, that I gathered as we walked, though all three have instructions to gather more if they find any. Cram to sop up the liquid. Tea. I wish we had some wine, but we will have some tomorrow in my father’s halls.” Pippin stooped some, obviously having hoped for something different, and Hariah chuckled.

“Sounds like typical fare for travel. I like a variety of meats in my stews. Can’t wait to have some baked goods, though. Particularly proper bread and pies. Puddings and cakes and biscuits…” She trailed off, and Pippin groaned. Three weeks ago, they had gotten into an intense discussion over proper foods for various occasions, and they were eager to leave behind travel fare. Arwen chuckled even as Sam and Merry plopped their buckets by the fire. With a wave of her hand, the buckets rose, startling the exhausted Hobbits, and dumped the water into the tub. Strider just slunk over and added his buckets while she heated the water. A splash drew her attention to the man.

“Did you just drop a dirty old rock in _my_ wash basin?” Hariah glared at the unrepentant grin gracing the man’s normally stern features.

“The rock is clean. I keep it just for washing. How else am I supposed to get the dirt out?” Merry chuckled and added his own rock, and she noted that they were indeed clean. Sam and Pippin were quick to add their rocks, and Arwen laughed.

“That does not matter. What matters is that there are rocks in my wash basin! Have you never heard of a washboard?” She pointed at hers, with the metal sheet bent into small ridges and framed in a black walnut wood frame that could hook onto the edge of the wash basin. Sam, Merry, and Pippin all looked at each other and backed up. Strider just snorted, not bothering to even glance at the indicated wash board.

“Yeah, but they’re for those who don’t live in the wilderness.” It was obviously a statement meant to goad her into an argument; they had done this many times over the last month to keep moral up over the rough terrain, and it had indeed brought much amusement to the Hobbits.

“Excuse you? Growing up, if I wanted to make tea, I had to hike to the well for my water! Every time, from the tender age of five.” She actually hadn’t had to do so, but it was a good start to a oneupmanship argument. Sam chuckled by her side as they got started with their laundry, sniping back and forth, with poorly concealed grins on their faces. Arwen just laughed openly as they continued, going so far as to splash water at each other. Elrohir was unlucky enough to get hit with a stray splash that accompanied their ending words.

“Uncultured swine!”

“Stuck up Princess!”

“Don’t mind them, boys,” Arwen piped from the fire, where she was passing out mugs of tea to the seated Hobbits. “They just can not seem to help but to act like little children.” Elladan snickered as Elrohir huffed in amusement and dropped down beside his sister to prepare the hares they had caught, even as Elladan passed over the vegetables they had gathered. Glorfindel was on the far edge of camp, deboning the fish he had caught. Strider frowned at her, even as they wrung out the last of the garments and he hung them on the line while she rinsed the rocks and washboard.

“We just like to argue, it doesn’t mean we are behaving like children.” Arwen stared at her, before rolling her eyes. 

“Sure, Little Warrior. If that’s what helps you sleep at night.” She frowned at Glorfindel questioningly, but he didn’t look up. Elrohir and Elladan, on the other hand, perked up.

“We almost forgot!”

“How could we?”

“But at least we remembered.”

“Too true, brother, too true. Anyway.”

“As we were leaving to meet Arwen, Gandalf arrived. He wasn’t alone.”

“He had two people with him that he introduced as Morinehtar and Rómestámo.”

“They’re the Blue Wizards. But they were different. They were twins, like us.”

“Yeah. And the other three Wizards, Saruman, Gandalf, and Radagast, all appear as old men.”

“But these two appeared closer to your age, Hariah.”

Hariah stared at them uncomprehendingly. They were obviously leading up to something, but she had no clue what they were trying to say.

“Anyway, they had red hair, looked a lot like fire, that was held back by pewter clasps.”

“Morinehtar favored an alice blue, but Rómestámo favored a dark royal blue. It was an interesting contrast.”

“But we couldn’t find any other differences, and we tried.”

“I swear, down to the freckle, they were identical.”

“They took switching speakers to the next level, though.”

“Every few words, and they had no problem picking up the trail.”

“I liked their staves though. They twisted around, like a spring made of wood. The gems were beautiful, too.”

“I didn’t like the gems so much. They kept changing colors. Sure it was subtle, but it hurt my eyes.”

“Meh. But the crowning point is who they were looking for.”

“Oh yeah! They were looking for, and we quote, a snarling black cat of a woman.”

“Small, but don’t call her that to her face.”

“Might be walking funny, depends on the day.”

“Oh and don’t be surprised if she threatens you, or even attacks!”

“Yeah, she does not like playing nice these days.”

“And her name is Hariah Rose.”

“But don’t call her Rose. She doesn’t like that.”

“Anyway, if you don’t see her, or if those you are meeting haven’t seen her, we’ll search further for her.”

“And that’s all they said on the subject.”

“They switched speakers quite often, though.”

“So imparting the information took a lot longer.”

“Anyway, are you the Hariah they are looking for?”

They stared at her expectantly, and she sighed.

“I do not know anyone by the names of Morinehtar or Rómestámo, though the features you described sound like my heart brothers, Fred and George. They do often call me a black cat, as well as state all the other things they added.” And she would hurt them as soon as she saw them, for passing on a few of those tidbits. “We shall see tomorrow, won’t we?” She raised an eyebrow at the two elves, and the nodded, not at all looking repentant. Figuring that was all she was going to get, she huffed and withdrew a knife set. Merry had found another walking stick sized stick that had a corkscrew on one end, and several knobs spaced out along the length, to replace the staff she had lost the first night in running from the riders. Quietly humming, she took a short blade and started to strip the bark, already going through the runes she could put along the length, and tuned out the conversation to focus her magic into the wood.

As she worked, she turned a portion of her focus onto the charm she had placed on Frodo, allowing her to “read” his health status. Though she may not be a healer, Poppy had taken to teaching her standard first aid, and how to read and understand the diagnostics that came back via charms. Right now, Frodo’s health was both failing and staying steady. Someone was working on him, that she could tell, but without being there, she could not tell what they were doing. A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked up to find Strider trying to pass her a bowl of stew and a piece of her hard tack. She could see several hares turning on a spit over the fire, while it looked like the fish had been wrapped in wet bark and were roasting by the fire, surrounded by coals.

“You looked far away. What had your attention?” Hariah gazed at Elrohir, who had asked the question, before giving a half smile.

“I was following the Life Tracking charm I had placed on Frodo before the riders caught up to us, Elrohir.” All the elves twitched faintly, and she pretended to not notice. “Frodo is… well it’s hard to read. The charm says his health is both steady and failing. I can tell that someone is working on him, but I don’t know why his health is still failing, unless…” Unless they were too late, but she wasn’t about to voice that. It looked like it was understood anyway. She decided to change the subject. “So, how long until the fish and hare are ready?” Arwen glanced at the aforementioned foods as everyone else perked up.

“Not much longer. In fact, they look to be done now.” The fish and hare were distributed, and all went quiet as they ate the food. Glorfindel kept glancing at her, and she steadily ignored his gaze, opting instead to stare at the fire. Lee would be really worried. It had been a whole month since she had disappeared from the McPherson Training Grounds, and she wondered how everyone was taking it. If she ever found her way back, Teddy wouldn’t let go, and Fred and George would probably prank her to high heaven and back for disappearing. But Lee would take it the hardest. With MaPa and Auntie gone through the Veil, they only had each other, and now she was gone. She grimaced. Not being able to talk to her brother was very difficult. Merry poked her shoulder.

“Glorfindel wants to inspect your leg again.” By the looks of things, it was more than a leg inspection. She figured this had something to do with her confession of Dark Arts earlier. With a sigh, she passed off her empty bowl and mug, and scrambled over, with a pair of trousers meant for the cut off, to where Glorfindel was sitting.

After Glorfindel had inspected the stump and she had pulled on the new trousers, he hesitated, staring at her intently.

“I wasn’t far off in calling you a warrior. You are well accustomed to fighting. Fighting for your life, fighting for a cause, fighting to fight. At least, that’s what I see.” He continued to stare at her, ignoring the stilted conversation through the rest of camp. “You have tasted the thrall of Dark Arts. It has a foot hold on you already. It can easily pull you back in. What’s to say you won’t slip?” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Hariah looked down to where she was fiddling with her hands. She had actually been expecting this at the river.

“I would be unable to stand the look by godson or brother would give me. They are the two most important people in the world now, to me. My godson Teddy, well, think a combination of Merry and Pippin with the ability to change his features at will, and you have my godson. But after I woke up following my abduction, he said he would hate me forever if I ever fell again. My brother, Lee, well, he wasn’t as nice. He said he’d kill me before I got the chance to leave the Dark Path again. He can do it, too. Quite easily, and he wouldn’t joke either. They are why I won’t slip.” She looked back up at Glorfindel, eyes blazing with determination. “I could handle my brother killing me, he knows I am dangerous even without magic. But I couldn’t do that to him, I’m all he has left of family. And I could not live with Teddy hating me.” Glorfindel nodded slowly.

“Not as serious, but still completely serious. Two more questions. One, I have never seen you maintain that sword, but I have seen you use it. You risk damaging it, and for what?” Hariah faintly smiled as she traced the scar left behind by the basilisk fang almost eighteen years ago.

“The sword is made of a special metal that never dulls. It also magically absorbs the properties of anything stronger that it touches, and it was covered in some of the strongest venom known to my people. That there would make it impossible to maintain, but I must also use that as a warning to be very careful if you ever handle it. I have no cure with me, and the venom works in seconds.” She glanced toward the mostly silent camp, and Glorfindel nodded once more.

“Okay. Now, how in all of Middle Earth did you tell those two apart? I know you got it right because it made them uneasy.” Here, Elrohir, Elladan, Arwen, and Strider all leaned forward eagerly, and even Sam, Merry, and Pippin perked up, looking for the secret. Hariah laughed, and turned to face the camp.

“Oh you two may be damn near identical, but until you’ve known magical twins for over two decades, then you know nothing about being identical. Two of my heart brothers are magically identical twins, meaning they have magical signatures that can be mistaken for the other very easily. On top of that, I have determined that their faces are identical to the last freckle. You learn to find the differences quickly.” She stopped talking. She’d let them figure out what gave them away on their own. “By the way, I knew two sets of magically identical twins and three sets of nonmagical, but identical twins. So it’s difficult to confuse me.” Fred, George, Padma, and Parvati had found that out, much to their detriment. Two sets of mismatched eyes narrowed at her, and she smiled serenely at them, levering herself back up and over to her pack.

In short order, she had her bedroll out and set up, and she was back to stripping the rest of the bark from the staff. She’d save the sanding for later, but she went ahead and temporarily wound leather strips around for a grip. While working (and sulking, not that she’d admit it out loud) she and Strider quietly shared a pipe even as the Hobbits drifted off. The two shared equally stubborn looks, born of being the younger sibling, determined to push the boundaries of how late they could stay up before – Glorfindel scoffed.

“Go to sleep. Or I’ll knock you two out myself.” His tone was hard, and they sighed, quickly finishing the pipe, and went to sleep.

~~*~~*~~

Loud, joyous laughter was the first thing Hariah heard the next morning when she finally woke up, and she blinked her eyes open, slowly taking in Strider’s amused stare. Slowly, she removed the knife from his throat and settled back slightly, weighing him down.

“What, in the name of Merlin and Morgana, do you thing you were you doing? Merlin’s hairy left nut sack, I could have killed you!” She glared at him, though it left him unaffected as he continued to shake and laugh. “Ugh!” She slapped his chest and looked around. “Well? What the ever-lovin’ fuck is going on?” Glorfindel straightened up and walked over with a large mug and a wooden box as he answered.

“Estel tried to see how many pebbles he could stack on everyone before they woke up. Sam woke up after three, while Pippin took five before waking. Merry, though,” Glorfindel shook his head sadly, “Merry only woke up because the tenth one slipped and hit his nose.” Hariah snorted as she took the mug of hot water from Glorfindel’s hands to allow him to open the box. She gasped as the rich smell of freshly ground coffee reached her nose. “Estel had just set the first one down when you grabbed his wrist and flipped around. He also mentioned that you might enjoy some Kafe. Here’s an infusion ball, we just got a lot of these beans, some pre-ground,  as a gift, and no one in Imladris seems to be fond of the drink.” She gazed cheerfully up at Glorfindel.

“You are a god. This is just what I need.” Infusion ball filled and plopped into the mug, she set it aside under a heating charm and accepted the bowl of eggs and venison from Arwen. Strider huffed from his position on the ground. “You, you horrible man, should just stay stuck, but since you suggested the coffee, if you’ll hold my food, I’ll move and let you up. Why would you decide to wake people up by stacking pebbles on their heads?” Strider grinned from where he had sat up, passing over her food and drink.

“Checking awareness. Teach me how to move without bells sounding?” She gave her half smile as she dug in.

“That was years of training, and I started when I was three. It’s no easy process. Where did we get these eggs?” Arwen grinned as Strider contemplated her words.

“My brothers and I very much enjoy camping in these woods, as do many other residents of Imladris. Wild geese, hens, ducks, quail, and pheasant live in various portions of the woods. I had the morning shift, so I woke Estel and went to gather what eggs I could find. Today, we have hen eggs. I was thankful they weren’t actually hatching eggs.” Seconds were being passed around, and she shamelessly held out her bowl for more as she gulped at the coffee, ignoring the heat from the liquid, as well as the winces from the elves. “Do you not find it... bitter or hot?” She snorted at Arwen’s question, even as Pippin snuck a taste of her drink.

“Nah. I’m actually finding it a little on the weak side. I like my coffee,” she ignored Strider’s correction of “Kafe” even as she kicked his foot., “really strong. I say I like it as black as tar, and some days, it rather does resemble tar in smell. At least, I like my first cup black. Any cups after that, I tend to cut with cream or milk.” She finished her drink and food, and Pippin took her dishes to wash as she turned and put away her bed roll and laundry, gathering her crutches and wandering down stream to schlep as much dirt off her body as she could and change. She took the time to wet a head scarf and wrap it around her hair – the clasps hadn’t been removed since she put her usual braids back in after removing the stitches, and she had even woven the braids into a bun at the base of her skull, so she would let the water slowly seep through her hair and loosen the dirt.

~~*~~*~~

It was late afternoon as they approached the open entry, and Hariah had to keep herself from swinging around as two dark haired elves walked up. One was, well the only descriptor she could find was small even though he was taller than her. He was thin, though not sickly thin, just not muscular, and his pin straight hair was a dark mahogany brown. His attention was focused solely on the group. His companion was broader and distracted by the number of books he was carrying. His mouse brown hair curled around his face in gentle waves. As the caught up to them, however, he snapped the book he was reading shut and focused on them and opened his mouth to speak.

“My Lord Elrond is currently attending urgent matters, so allow me to welcome you to Imladris.” His mouth snapped shut and he shook his head before focusing on them once again. “Sorry. There’s another group that just passed the borders, and I, for some reason, thought you were them. I assume this is the rest of young Master Baggins’ travel party?” Glorfindel chuckled as he stepped forward to pat the elf on the shoulder.

“Indeed, Erestor. If you and Lindir would be so kind as to figure the best rooms for them, I am going to clean up. A week of travel leaves one rather rank.” Erestor nodded, and the now-named Lindir wrinkled his nose slightly as Glorfindel passed. “See you at dinner!” The twins chuckled.

“Why not near the healing wing, or near us. As they aren’t part of the expected parties, it means none of the other planning gets messed up.” Lindir nodded reluctantly, and Erestor smiled before turning and following the path Glorfindel took.

“Sounds good to me.” Strider huffed, and tapped her on the shoulder, leaning close to mutter in her ear.

“There are bathtubs, just so you’re aware. Talk to Arwen about a solution if that bothers you too much. See you at dinner, I am going to get cleaned up.” She nodded glumly as the twins grabbed Merry and Pippin, all four of them sporting unholy looks of glee, and scampered off, while Lindir took Sam down another corridor. Arwen turned to look at her.

“Strider motioned that you had something to ask me? We can talk on the way to your rooms. I’ll put you next to me. It gets lonely, being the only female in the wing sometimes. You handled the forest very well, by the way.” She sighed and followed Arwen, not acknowledging the faint compliment beyond a nod.

“I don’t want this to spread. I’m terrified of water. Rivers, streams, creeks, oceans, lakes, ponds. Bathtubs. Sometimes I can deal with it with very little issue, but...” She trailed off, but Arwen was already nodding.

“Sam mentioned that you Pippin, and Merry went under when crossing the river. Right now, it’s too much?” Hariah nodded, glaring at the ground. “Would it help having someone there? If you’re uncomfortable with that...” It was Arwen’s turn to trail off as she thought for a solution, and Hariah spoke up.

“I have no body shyness, and I found out that I was less likely to panic when someone was in the water with me. I’ve been plagued with this my whole life, and I normally have a bathing area that directs the water through a perforated container, allowing the water to come down like a rain shower. But I need to soak my leg after washing my hair.” Arwen nodded and opened a door. The room was large, with one wall being a window leading to a balcony with double doors that were currently open to allow the breeze in. There was a large bed, roughly the size of a queen, decked in greens and browns. The whole room, in fact, was decked in greens, golds, and browns, with a beautiful, if ironic, rose motif. A bedside table, a wardrobe, a vanity, an armchair, and a small table completed the furniture, and she gazed around as Arwen went to close the doors, instead opening two small windows to keep the breeze, and privacy, before turning back to where Hariah was inspecting the large tub.

“We actually tend to prefer communal baths, as it’s easier. Females in one bath, males in the other, though we also like to allow people their privacy, hence the private baths in many of the bedrooms or suites.”

~~*~~*~~

An hour and a half later, Hariah and Arwen were laughing as they dressed.

“Your brother actually said that to her?” Arwen gazed at her in disbelief, despite the wide smile on her face, as she laced up the bodice of her bright ivory gown. Hariah was similarly tying the bodice on her black velvet gown as she nodded.

“He did. And he got away without punishment, too! Lee is my hero for a damn reason. That, and he is really good at embroidery. He did these roses on my dress.” Arwen cooed over the stitches, even as Hariah spotted silver stars in Arwen's gown, bringing a coo to her lips. “I have a silver and diamond star clasp that would match that dress, if you’d like to borrow it?”The words were out of her mouth before she consciously thought them and she refused to take them back as Arwen stared at her, before slowly nodding. She quickly dug it out, thankful she hadn’t had time to put it back properly after Luna had returned it and passed it over, keeping a rose shaped clasp to clip her hair back with. Hair done, she tied her boot, and the two were moving swiftly down the hall.

“I don’t think they’ll mind that we are a little late, especially once they see your hair. I have never seen anyone get that much hair down to that little space like you did.” Hariah grinned. She, admittedly, used magic to to get her hair that tightly wound, but she wasn’t about to tell Arwen that. In the dining hall, however, Hariah paused, uneasy, as she glanced at everyone. There, rushing towards her, were Merry and Pippin, and she glimpsed Sam work his way around them, nodding at her as he went. She turned back to the two in front of her with a raised eyebrow as they grabbed at her sleeves.

“We thought you were going to skip dinner!”

“You eat so little to begin with, you can’t skip dinner!” Her eyebrow lowered as she laughed gently, pushing them back towards the table.

“I eat quite a bit, if you two consider that to be a small portion, then we’ll have problems. Sit you two.” Arwen snorted as she glided past to stand next to her brothers – Elrohir was wearing a black tunic with silver trim, and Elladan had a silver tunic with black trim. She raised an eyebrow slightly, taking in the wide, and slightly diabolical, grins, suppressing a shudder. Strider was a few steps behind them, and she was somewhat surprised that he had cleaned up nicely. Oh, she had noted an attractive quality in him as they traveled, but it had been overshadowed by lack of trust and urgency of travel. He was dressed similarly to the twins, with a nod to the story Glorfindel had told yesterday, or that’s how she took it, wearing a dark green under tunic, and a black over tunic. His hair brushed his shoulders in waves, and she nodded as he raised an eyebrow at her in question.

“Maybe now they’ll let someone other than Sam eat. He has gone to return to Frodo, by the way.” She hummed and glanced at the others in the room. There was Glorfindel (who waved jauntily at her from where he was chatting with Erestor, who was pouring over a large tomb), Lindir (who nodded serenely at her as he relaxed beside Erestor), a wizened man who sat stooped in his chair smoking a long stemmed pipe, and two, lanky, pale, and freckled men, dressed in blue robes. They were none other than –

“Hari!” Twin shouts sent her into motion, quickly dodging out of the way of their first rush, only to get caught in their second grab as they checker her over for injuries. They ignored her as she increasingly grew irritated, before she used a crutch to hit their heads.

“Fred Alatar and George Pallando Weasley! If you two do not stop it this instant, I will not be the only amputee!” Four hands whipped back away from her person and to heads ducked down in shame. “Now, why are you here, and not seeing Teddy off at the station? If I’ve counted correctly, it should be the first of September or thereabouts.” Before Fred or George could speak, Strider was between them, testing her eyes’ reactions, ignoring the fact that she kept poking him with a crutch.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!?” She finally got him to move back, and he frowned at her.

“It’s late October, Hariah.” She stared at him, unaware that her head was slowly shaking back and forth. “We left Bree on the twenty-seventh of September. It’s the twenty-first of October now.” She stumbled back.

“No. That can’t be possible. It was the morning of my thirtieth birthday, the morning of the thirty-first of July, when something knocked me out. It-it had to be that afternoon that the Hobbit found me passed out in the road, because that would mean... that would mean I’m missing two months. And that’s not a good thought. Two months is bad. It’s really bad. I had appointments. If I didn’t show to those appointment, they could take my godson from me. This is bad.” She was vaguely aware that she was babbling, but she didn’t try to stop it as she reached up to grasp at the locket she had tucked into her bodice. She felt herself being guided to a seat, and next thing she knew, she was staring at George, who was crouched down in front of her with his hands on her wrists.

“They couldn’t have taken Teddy anyway. The Ministry took him by force when they couldn’t find you.They nearly killed our wives and Lee to do so, if that helps any. They also had to knock him out to get him, he was fighting with everything he had, just like you taught him. We were only spared because we had been drawn into a vision from Irmo. You remember the Valar we told you about?” Hariah nodded, remember the tales she had been told five years ago when the strange being first started appearing in her dreams. “Varda took you, Estë healed you, Irmo tried to impart knowledge to help you, and Yavanna put you in the path of the Hobbits. We’ve been getting everyone to a safe location, especially since the Ministry is going under, which is why we haven’t been here but a few days.” She stared at him before turning to Fred.

“And what about Teddy? Did you get my godson back? Did you even try?” Fred winced, and her anger grew.

“They sent Teddy through the Veil... just as we got the right papers to put him in our custody. This happened the first of August. But Irmo said we would see him again!” Fred tried to tack this on as a bright point, but Hariah growled.

“Yeah, we’ll find his goddamn body being feasted on by fucking vultures. Pull the other string, it just might have the fucking bells you’re looking for.” With that, she hexed the two, leaving their skin neon green, their hair a garish shade of pink, and dressed as clowns – in frilly dresses. Huffing, she glared at the table as Strider patted her shoulder and sat across from her, Merry and Pippin claiming the spots at her sides. Slowly, conversations started back up, and Hariah lifted her head to grab some food.

“I must say, I have never seen magic used in such a way, even when Morinehtar and Rómestámo first came to Middle Earth with Radagast, Saruman, and myself. They were tricksters even then, but they never used magic exclusively.” She turned towards the speaker, who had put his pipe away and was glancing merrily between her brothers and herself. “Gandalf, my dear girl. Gandalf the Grey. These two have told me about you, but when they spoke of your temper, I never imagined something like this!”

“Glad you’re amused, old man. Not in the mood for pleasantries and small talk right now. I just want to eat, check on Frodo, and go to bed. Catch me tomorrow, when I have likely internalized this information, and we can chat then.” Gandalf chuckled, and Hariah sighed sadly. _I guess this is the new normal. What is normal anyway? I never meant for this to be Teddy’s norm. He deserves a quiet life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to deviate more from what I previously had, so take what you previously knew of this story with a grain of salt (if you're just joining us, then don't believe what I've written beyond this point, fair warning, it will change).
> 
> As of 2/1/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.


	5. Chapter 4: Reunions and New Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are reunited, Hariah finds some kind of balance, and we meet the rest of the Fellowship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder:  
> "Talking"  
> 'Thinking' - in Italics  
> Telepathic - in Italics, no quotation marks  
> "Talking" - in Italics indicates Elvish when in Middle Earth  
> "Talking" - in Bold indicates Dwarvish when in Middle Earth  
> Any talking done in Italics or Bold done by Hariah or anyone from Earth will be emphasis, unless otherwise noted. If they are using a different language, I will use Google Translate and put the translation in the end notes, for most languages. Some languages, I will state what they were speaking in, but write in English.
> 
> As of 2/8/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.

Tulkas sighed as he, Irmo, Nienna, Estë, and Yavanna watched carefully. The one who had reunited Námo’s Hallows was taking things mostly in stride. He liked her. She was strong and efficient, and, he had noted while watching her on Earth, the People’s Champion, even though it irked her to be called that. Nienna sniffled, and Yavanna patted her shoulder, not letting her eyes leave the scene. Estë was watching, put out that Hariah had almost done permanent damage to the stump. Irmo was waiting for her to sleep deeply enough to allow for more visions. The door behind them slowly opened, and his wife, Nessa, danced over with hot chocolate, joining Nienna and Yavanna on the sofa.

“Are you sure it has to be her, Tulkas? Couldn’t it have been someone else?” Nienna turned watery aquamarine eyes on him, and he was thankful that she wasn’t actively crying anymore, having shed many tears for the life Hariah had led thus far.

“I could possibly have chosen someone else, but all signs point to it being her, even if Námo denies it. And anyone else just would not have the strength she has. She is the only one that I believe can handle the strain of saving those lines.” Yavanna huffed as she wrapped Nienna into a hug. Tulkas had the feeling that, if she could, Yavanna would turn Hariah into one of her Hobbits, she was that fond of the woman.

~~*~~*~~

As Hariah stalked the halls, quietly following the directions Arwen had given her, she reviewed her actions earlier. She knew she shouldn’t have been so harsh on her brothers, but Teddy was the only child she would be able to have, since Voldemort’s final blow before she had killed him was to stick a poisoned dagger into her at such an angle that it struck her womb. To hear that the Ministry, who had been calling Teddy a Dark Creature since his birth, had taken him filled her with dread. Yes, they were told that they would see him again, by god-like beings no less, but that didn’t mean the Ministry hadn’t poisoned him with silver before sending him through the Veil.

It was as she was passing a door that was slightly open that she heard it. Teddy’s voice, warbling and cracking in suppressed fear, and trying to be strong and assertive.

“I won’t give you what you want!” This statement was accompanied by a clatter, and if Hariah had to guess, it was a wooden bowl clattering on the flagstones. There was a wearied sigh.

“All I want is for you to eat, be healthy, and tell me where your family is so that I can return you to them, child. I know that if it were one on my children, I would be frantic over their wellbeing.” She edged closer to the door, nudging it so that she could peek into the room. There, by the door, was a wooden bowl in the middle of a puddle of porridge. An elf, looking quite similar to Elrohir and Elladan, wearing cream and brown robes and a simple silver circlet, was facing the bed, hands by his side, spread in a nonthreatening manner, and there, on the bed, glaring at the elf was –

“Teddy!” Two heads whipped her direction as she pushed the door open further and quickly made her way to the bed.

“Mum!” Teddy almost bounded off the bed, before she pushed him back down, and sat on the edge of the bed, encircling him in her arms, heedless of the way her crutches hit the bedside table. “What happened? Uncles Fred and George wouldn’t say anything beyond the fact that it was beyond their control.” She drew back and stroked Teddy’s cheek.

“I will tell you, but only after you apologize to this man for yelling and throwing the porridge. He was just trying to help you.” She gazed sternly at him as he ducked his head, and a throat cleared behind her.

“He didn’t actually throw the bowl. It appeared to fling itself across the room.” Without looking behind her, Hariah reached out and bopped Teddy on the head.

“I’ve told you, control your outbursts. We’ve worked on this child. Tomorrow, provided you’re in good health, we’ll get back to training. Basic training.” Teddy whined, but nodded, looking back up.

“I’m sorry that I was rude and obnoxious, and for losing control of my magic and causing the bowl to fly into the wall. I’ll work on controlling my emotions better.” Hariah turned around to see a soft smile form on the elf’s face.

“Don’t worry about it, child. You have nothing on Mithrandir in a fit of temper. He tends to set things ablaze. Let me go get another bowl, don’t worry about that one there.” He turned to face Hariah fully. “Are you one of the people who travelled with young Master Baggins? My daughter, Arwen gave me a brief overview when she brought him to me.” Hariah nodded, and he smiled. “Welcome to Imladris, I am Elrond.” he intoned with a slight bow. “I hope you find the rest and healing you require during your stay. Are you in need of actual healing right now?” He gestured to her missing leg, and she contemplated it briefly.

“I would not mind a healer taking a look, to make sure I did not damage the stump further, but I have no new injuries that need attending. Just mental and physical exhaustion. Is Teddy…” she trailed off, shifting so that she could draw him into her side. Lord Elrond shook his head.

“I did not get a chance to examine him. A family found him passed out in the outskirts a few days ago, shortly before Arwen arrived with Master Baggins, and they got him here shortly after the rest of your group arrived. He was already awake and fighting then. They did remove some silver bands from his wrists and ankles, having noted that they were causing an extreme rash, which has since faded. Once he has eaten, I can look him over, if you would like.” Hariah glanced at Teddy, who nodded faintly.

“We would appreciate it, Lord Elrond. Thank you for all you have done.” With a serene smile, Lord Elrond glided from the room, gracefully avoiding the mess of porridge. A tap on the door interrupted them before they could speak.

“Miss Hariah, ya in there?” She smiled at hearing Sam’s hesitant question. “Merry and Pippin said tha’ ya were supposed ta be comin’ ta see Mister Frodo.” She could hear murmurs beyond Sam, and sighed. Teddy was looking at here eyes hopeful at meeting new people now that he knew he was safe.

“Come on in, Sam. I know there are more people beyond you, so tell them to come on in as well. But be careful! There’s porridge on the ground!” The warning came a little late, as Pippin slipped, causing Teddy to giggle. She smiled as Sam, Merry, and Pippin (who was trying to get the porridge off his feet crowded the bed, as Strider, Fred, George, Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan filed in around the room. Fred and George were still brightly colored, and Teddy’s laughter was contagious. Hariah huffed as her brothers glared at her after seeing Teddy, and she removed the hexes. “Not one word, you two. Just don’t.” They settled back, chastised. “Everyone, this is my godson, Teddy. Teddy, these are Sam, Merry, and Pippin,” the three chorused a cheery “Warm home to you” as Teddy waved, “Strider,” who nodded calmly, “and Arwen, and her brothers Elrohir and Elladan.” As the three bowed and murmured _mae govannen,_ she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Let me know when you think you’ve figured them out, okay? Part of your training.” Teddy nodded, and managed a shy hello as he examined everyone. Pippin leaned on the edge of the bed next to her, head cocked to the side as he stared at Teddy.

“I thought you said he was your godson? He looks like your son.” She sighed at Merry’s bluntness as she turned to examine Teddy. He had her skin and eyes, his Lee style dreadlocks, one of which was bright turquoise, and sighed again. Before she could speak, however, Teddy piped up.

“I’m like my birth mum – I can change my appearance at will! Aunt Hariah takes care of me like a mum would, so she’s my mum and I honor that.” She felt Teddy wrap himself around her and settled in.

Questions were few, surprisingly, but when Lord Elrond returned several minutes later, he shooed everyone out. By the time both had been examined and released, it was late. She peeked into Frodo’s room, seeing for her own two eyes that he was here and relatively safe, before leading Teddy to her room.

~~*~~*~~

Hariah opened her eyes, secure in the knowledge that, whatever she was about to see, was all in her head. In front of her stood a tall male, with pale, unblemished skin and long pointed ears. His kaleidoscopic eyes, never settling on one color, gazed at her in sympathy, and a long fingered hand was stretched out to her.

“Will you come walk with me, Hariah Rose Potter?” His soothing voice flowed over her ears like music, and she accepted the offered hand.

“Why did you take me from my home?” Irmo smiled serenely and gestured to a well worn path way.

“Come, child. Walk through the gardens with me. Yavanna has been adding to them since your last visit. She’s dedicated a whole bed to Alyssum and White Heather. Another two beds have gone to the various Lilies. She wants your opinion on them.” Hariah snorted; she preferred her gardens to have more of a purpose than to look pretty. She had her vegetable garden and her herb garden, as well as greenhouses to grow potions ingredients. But, she followed, allowing Irmo to take his time; she even paused a few times to admire the flowers, vines, and trees. As they settled on a bench, surrounded by Alyssum, Hariah gazed at the elf-like being next to her.

“Irmo, why did Varda see fit to take me from my home? My family? I am thankful for the chance to have been healed by your wife, but why?” _Why me,_ she wanted to ask. _Why can I not have a normal life?_ Irmo patted her hands where she had them clasped on her lap.

“Because, child, you are the only one with strength enough to help these people through the war. Tulkas singled you out for your strength and perseverance. For the fact that you really are the _people’s champion_. Perhaps someone else could have taken your place, but they would have fallen, and it is unknown if they would have seen the war through. Forgive me for saying this, but you are too stubborn to allow that to happen to you; even Námo recognized it, having gone for you many times during your war.” Irmo chuckled softly at the resulting curses from the woman beside him. His fingers brushed through the flowers around him, and with the resulting blooms, he created a wreath of Alyssum and White Heather, mixing it with the various flagrant grasses around. He slid to the ground to kneel in front of Hariah. “But know this, Hariah Rose Potter. Know that we will protect you as best we can on this journey. We have grown very fond of you in these years. Bear this Alyssum, and know that you are under our protection. We may not be able to keep you from dying, but you will be accepted amongst us if you do die.” He placed the wreath on her head and placed a hand on her cheek.

“You may learn some ugly truths along the way, but we believe you will also form strong bonds with people here. But if you fall in love, and take that final step in a relationship, you will never be able to return to Earth.” Hariah stared, somewhat gormlessly, at the Vala.

“So, as long as I’m not some maiden in a fairy tale who falls in love with the dashing hero, I can return home?” Irmo nodded, and Hariah gave a joyless laugh. “What about Teddy? Will he be able to return?” Irmo grimaced.

“No. The Veil is a one way portal. Normally, we cannot interfere with the portal, but we were able to direct Teddy, as well as three others, here. But they will never be able to go back. To try to do so would be their death.” Hariah hung her head.

“Then I will never see Earth again. I cannot leave my godson alone. But I cannot fathom Lee being alone. Is there any way –” she cut herself off. She would not be selfish and ask for her brother to be brought here just for her peace of mind. Irmo patted her cheek.

“You will find answers along the way, child. Now, it is time to wake. Young Peregrin seeks you.” The garden faded from view, as did Irmo, and Hariah closed her eyes, feeling herself become weightless.

~~*~~*~~

Muffled voices invaded her senses as she floated back to consciousness.

“Why are you in here Pippin?” Teddy’s whisper floated through her ears as she burrowed further into the large fluffy blanket she had pulled from her wardrobe.

“I was having trouble sleeping. After a month of sleeping in a group, well, it’s difficult not hearing everyone’s breathing and snoring. But Hariah’s the only one who I know wouldn’t tease me for wanting to sleep near somebody else, like a fauntling curling up in their parent’s bed after a nightmare. Not to imply that you are a fauntling! I understand that neither of you want to get to far from the other. Family bonds are the second most sacred thing to a Hobbit, topped only by the love of a spouse.” Hariah lifted her head at Pippin’s rambling.

“Pippin, are you alright?” Hariah see tell that it had only been a few hours since she and Teddy had gone to bed, and the moonlight spilled through the open windows, bathing the room in soft light, allowing her to see Pippin nod. But she could see in the way he was shifting from foot to foot and wringing his hands that something was wrong. “No you aren’t. Talk to me.” She sat up and patted the foot of the bed. Pippin clambered up as Teddy also sat up, curious.

“I had a strange dream. A woman, who looked a lot like a bush taking the form of a Hobbit, appeared to me. Hariah, she said war was coming to all.” Hariah immediately saw the problem. Hobbits were not a fighting race by nature. She placed a hand on his shoulder as he continued. “She said that the King would return, and I would play an important role. Hariah, please don’t tell anyone, but I’m twenty-eight, five years from majority. In the race of Men, that makes me about sixteen. To Hobbits, I’m old enough to drink and have a job, though not old enough to leave my parents and marry just yet.” Hariah frowned. It went against her more motherly nature to allow him to take this important role Yavanna said he had, but then, Yavanna was a Valier, and knew more than she did.

“Your secret is safe with us. The woman who appeared to you was Yavanna. And did you know that when she first appeared to me, the first thing I asked was if she was a walking bush? She laughed. She enjoyed that new take on her appearance.” Pippin and Teddy chuckled.

“Pippin, there’s enough room for you if the vision unsettled you that much.” Teddy’s soft voice surprised her about as much as his offer did. Teddy had been clinging to her almost obsessively since she had walked through that door and hugged him. Pippin wavered, and she sighed. Knowing he wasn’t of age yet, and in that teen mentality stage, heightened her motherly instincts, and she shifted over to the middle of the bed.

“Come here, Pippin. Dust off your feet and get in. In the future, tap the foot board to wake me up, okay?” Pippin nodded eagerly, and the three settled back down.

~~*~~*~~

Merry huffed as he peeked into Pippin’s room only to find him gone. The bed had been slept in, but Merry knew his cousin was not one to wake early. Crunching down on a pilfered apple, Merry started to walk down the hallway, peeking into rooms as he went. Thirty minutes later, and he heard Hariah’s voice, speaking softly.

“Find your core, and center yourself. Envision your core, and strengthen it. Build your walls, and fortify them. Express your core in the fire, and control it.” He peeked into the room to see Hariah and her godson (son?) sitting, legs crossed, backs straight, and wrists on their knees. Each had three unlit candles in front of them, and Merry wondered at the instructions before the candles in front of Hariah lit in tandem and a dragon formed from the three spots of flame. Merry almost shouted but for a hand over his mouth.

“Let them meditate in peace, Merry. Hariah said she’d teach us the basics of meditating later if we wanted.” As they watched, Hariah’s dragon grew and circled around her while Teddy’s candles lit, one by one, and slowly formed a crouched wolf in the smoke, the fires trying desperately to reach the form.

“Relax and try again, Teddy. Do not force it. Let it flow naturally.” Merry looked back at Hariah, noting that her eyes were open and watching Teddy, even as she moved to a planking position, the dragon not wavering from where it was weaving around her body sinuously. “Do not be discouraged.”

“Come Merry. We’ll see them at Breakfast. Let’s go see if the Twins are awake yet. They did say to meet at the kitchens an hour before dawn.”

~~*~~*~~

Hariah was aware of Merry at the door, and grateful for Pippin keeping him quiet. Teddy had been out longer than she had, and needed to regain control of his magic. As an adult, being unconscious that long would only leave her magic sluggish. But Teddy was underage and his magical core was still growing. Being unconscious as long as he had been had damaged his control, if not his core.

She slowly went through part her morning routine, performing sitting stretches, planks, crunches, sit ups, and push ups, as she quietly guided Teddy through meditation and controlled her dragon. She was doing some basic yoga to cool down when her wand buzzed, having been set as a timer.

“Alright Teddy, come back to me. It’s time for you to do your stretches.” The candle flames went out, and Teddy’s eyes opened, showing their disappointment. “You’ll get there. Remember, I couldn’t do this well until the war ended. I practiced an ungodly amount when stuck in the hospital, and you’re doing better than I did at your age.” She stood and perched on the stool nearby, picking up a simple staff as she went. “Just stretches right now. Once I see what they have in the way of training grounds, we’ll get back to physical fitness. Breakfast is in an hour.”

~~*~~*~~

Hariah struggled not to laugh at the number of double takes when they walked into the dining hall for breakfast. Teddy had decided to emulate his birth parents today, with Remus’ lanky frame and shaggy hair, a nod to his mother with a shockingly pink strip in amongst the turquoise he loved, and a light olive skin tone. The only thing he hadn’t changed were his eyes, preferring to keep those the same emeralds she had. She lost her battle as Teddy asked, sounding quite affronted, what they were staring at.

“I told you that you would shock them, sweetheart. Not everyone is used to your drastic changes, you know.” Teddy stuck his tongue out as they settled at the table, taking the time to poke Pippin in the cheek.

“It’s still me, you know.” As they ate, Hariah spoke quietly withStrider and Arwen.

“I was wondering about two things: training grounds and the library. I need to keep with Teddy’s studies, and training.” Arwen looked at her knowingly, and she added, “and for my personal curiosity and fitness.” Strider chuckled.

“Glorfindel wants to spar with you when you are able, which sparked the interest of Erestor, Elrohir, and Elladan. Lindir wouldn’t mind watching, but he is purely a scholar, does not like to fight. And I wouldn’t mind an official spar with you. That’s a minimum of seven fights, by the way, but we aren’t expecting you to fight them all in one day.” Arwen jolted, and by the grunt from Strider, Hariah assumed that he was just kicked.

“I’ll show you the library, Erestor runs it, and will be willing to help you should you find yourself needing help.” Hariah raised an eyebrow; did they think she was helpless? “It’s a new area, _mellon_ , and rather large. We don’t want you to get lost.” Oh. She really needed to stop assuming that people thought her helpless. “Do you want to work on training or studies first?” Hariah glanced at Teddy, who was listening to Fred and George with an expression scarily reminiscent of Remus when an idea popped in his head.

“I’d like to look at the training grounds, see what we’re dealing with and figure out what we can work on, but I think I’ll do that while I’ve got him doing homework.” Arwen nodded and settled back.

“I can take you to the library now, then I have to go help _Ada_ in the Healing Wing. How do you do his lessons?” Hariah looked down at her plate, absently popping Pippin’s hand as he tried to add more to her plate.

“When he was younger, before I sent him to a school to learn what I could not teach him with others his age, I would give two hour lessons, take a short break to answer any further questions while he looks over his homework assignment and shift gears, give another two hour lesson and break for lunch. Sure,” she was quick to continue seeing the looks the two pulled, “it sounds like a long time, but we do interactive learning. He’s not sitting there listening to me speak. It was more like games with a lesson learned. Like, when teaching him Maths, he was in constant motion. Science was constant experimentation. But after lunch, it was a four hour study hall. He did his homework, and read up on the next days lessons, as well as worked on long term projects. I’ve been teaching him proper research, and presentations for long terms. When the long term projects are due, he has an hour at the end of study hour where he shows me what he’s learned. On weekends, we focus on foreign languages.” Hariah shrugged. “We can’t really let Teddy sit still. He gets destructive. When not in school or training, Lee, Fred, George, and I all take turns teaching him our trades. In other words, we keep him busy.”

“So… Library first?” Hariah laughed at Arwen’s question, and nodded.

“I just need to grab materials from my room.” She needed her old school books, and plenty of parchment and ink, and probably some extra quills, and her old notes to see where Teddy was in learning. A quick side trip later, and Hariah was setting her book bag on a table, already planning several tests for each subject. Sure, he hadn’t started his second year, but she had tried to keep him ahead of the game like she and Lee had been, so with that, she set questions up to fourth year.

~~*~~*~~

By lunchtime, Teddy had been set on a course of learning what section was where in the library, and Hariah had seen that very few modifications to training had to be done. Fred and George had passed over her duplicate sword, looking just like the Sword of Gryffindor, but not poisoned, and they had met Bilbo, receiving an invitation to Afternoon Tea.

Elrohir and Elladan had left on a hunt, and she gathered that Rivendell was about to be host to a number of guests. Arwen was sitting, subdued, next to Sam, her arm around his shoulders. They looked up as she approached.

“ _Ada_ says we have to wait until Frodo is almost a wraith before he can remove the shard. _Ada_ will be able to slow the process once he’s translucent enough, but we don’t know how getting that close to the the other world will affect him in the long run. But on the other hand, trying to get it out now might push it into his heart, and speed the process even further.” Sam shuddered as Arwen spoke, and Hariah leant against the table.

“Then, after lunch, I think I should visit Frodo, and talk with your father, if someone would be willing to sit with Teddy as he explores the library. His current project is to familiarize himself with the library.” A hand landed gently on her shoulder, and she turned to see Strider.

“I will do so, if you’d like.” Lunch passed quietly, and when Strider and Teddy were off to the library, she and Arwen made their way to the Healing Wing, joined part way by Lord Elrond. Hariah spoke quietly as they walked.

“I do not claim to know the intricacies of healing, but I am capable of small things, particularly a spell meant to pinpoint, view, and generally observe foreign objects within a person. I want to see if this spell will work and if you can use it to get the shard out of Frodo.” She wouldn’t beat around the bush; better to get straight to the point, even if one comes across as blunt.

“How does it work? Lord Elrond was watching her intently, and she took a breath as she noted the sheer exhaustion behind the ageless appearance.

“It creates a, well, screen of mist over the subject. You can still see the person, but the skin appears translucent, allowing you to also view the organs. The organs are also not solid looking. The only things that show up looking solid in the mist are foreign objects.” She could hear herself fall into a flat tone, reciting the effects without letting her emotions bleed through. “There’s about six inches between the subject and the screen, enough room for a healer’s hands to work without disturbing the screen too much, though disturbing the screen will not do more than distort the image slightly. Obviously, not the best idea. I might be able to exert enough control to allow you more room to work, though. Your hands will not appear on the screen, but you should be able to see your hands anyway. The mist is not thick, and you may need a lot of light in order to fully see the mist at all.” A hand on her elbow stopped her, in both speech and movement, and she saw that she was about to blow right past Frodo’s room.

“Then let us test this screen, see how much light I will need, and if I can work with it, yes?” Exhausted, yet determined eyes gazed at her, hope carefully banked, and she nodded.

An hour later, Lord Elrond was carefully cutting into Frodo’s shoulder, watching the slow moving shard carefully. Hariah’s eyes were glued to Frodo’s vitals, having cast a charm to allow her to monitor him, and Arwen was nearby, looking over the various potions Hariah had produced, including blood replenishers, salves, and pastes.

“Careful, his heart rate is picking up.”

“Arwen, wipe the blood.”

It only took fifteen minutes to reach and remove the shard, but the three were tense and quiet. Upon removal, Hariah noted that the shard disintegrated like the rest of the blade had, and grimaced. Healing pastes and herbs to stave and remove infection were placed in the cut, and his shoulder was bound, before she dismissed the screen, still watching the vitals.

“I thought you were not a healer, Miss Hariah.” Lord Elrond looked at her, amused, and she held her head up as they set about cleaning, replacing the sheets, and covering Frodo.

“I’m not. I know spells that can aid a healer; I can read diagnostics from my spells; I can treat sprains, strains, and bruises, as well as scrapes, and stitches, and remove debris from just under the surface. I cannot set broken bones, or perform surgeries. I am a fighter more than a healer. I was always getting into some scrape or another, though, so I took to learning what I could to help our healers.” She shrugged; if given more time, she could have probably learned most of what she needed to know to become a certified healer, but she hadn’t had the time, so she didn’t. Lord Elrond hummed, before pointing at her supplies.

“Teach me those?” It was a question that brought her up short. “They are more efficient than most of mine.” Slowly, she repacked her kit, making note of what she had to replenish.

“So, you want to learn to make these? Fair warning, the process can be rather unpleasant on the senses, particularly the olfactory senses.” Lord Elrond nodded as he picked up the mortar and pestle they had used to to make the paste and took it to the sink. “I’m teaching Teddy these, if you’d like to join?” Teddy had actually been helping her prepare ingredients since he was four, but she figured a renowned healer such as Lord Elrond would know the various preparation methods. “I don’t know when we will next have those lessons, though. I’m still judging where he is in his learnings. I had to send him to a school for subjects I’m not supposed to be teaching because, and I quote, _I have no mastery._ I never got my masteries because of the war. Otherwise, my brothers and I would be teaching him everything that the other students learn in the school, and he would be done way before his peers.” She was faintly aware that she was complaining to Lord Elrond, but she wasn’t going to worry about that right now. Right now, they were two people who had worked together, and who had raised, or were raising, children.

“From what I gather and understand, you and your son are from another world, yes?” She gazed at Lord Elrond in shock, before nodding, remembering her dream and the wreath she had found on her night side table this morning.

“Yes, and there will be no returning for either of us. This I already know.” She was focused on drying, so missed the motions of Lord Elrond.

“Then allow me and my family to help the two of you acclimate to this world.” She gazed up in shock as Lord Elrond’s hands grasped her shoulders. “The two of you will have a place here, even if we elves leave these shores. Don’t answer now,” he held up a hand as Hariah opened her moth to respond. “Think on it. Wait until you’ve seen to Master Baggins awakening. Let everything settle before making a decision.” With that Lord Elrond swept from the room, and Hariah was left alone with Frodo. With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed and carded her fingers through Frodo’s curls.

~~*~~*~~

Despite the removal of the shard, Frodo did not wake until the twenty-fourth, two days later. In those two days, she had devised a set of lesson plans for Teddy, started teaching a meditation class, and settled back into a daily work out routine. Bilbo had given her, and Teddy, a standing invitation to Afternoon Tea, as well as a standing offer to “look after the lad for you, my dear, for it must be tiring.” Lord Elrond had invited her to join the council meeting on the twenty-fifth.

“It’s a meeting of the free races, concerning the fate of Middle Earth. Men, Elves, and Dwarves will be there. I know for certain that The elves of the Haven and Greenwood will be in attendance. Arwen shall be happy; her betrothed will be representing the Greenwood. Unfortunately, the Elves of Lorien are being closely watched by the Enemy,” Elrond had previously given her a crash course on the history of Middle Earth and what was happening now, “as the Lady Galadriel is powerful indeed. An envoy of Dwarves from the Kingdom of Erebor will also be here, something I have yet to tell Bilbo, who will be delighted at seeing old friends again. I think we shall also have an envoy from the Blue Mountains, Erestor knows for certain, and they may decide to travel with the envoy from the Haven.” Hariah sighed as Lord Elrond pointed out the various places on the map in front of them. She had been studying the maps whenLord Elrond approached her, and honestly, this was helpful, knowing what kind of people lived where. “Also from the direction of Erebor, a small envoy, traveling with the Dwarves, of men from the Kingdom of Dale. An envoy from Gondor, Minas Tirith in particular. They are the first defense against the might of Mordor, sitting right on the edge of the borders, you see? So don’t be surprised if they are extremely short in temper. Their people fight and die constantly, and they may try to pass you off as they would their women: in need of protection. Don’t let that bother you.” She smiled at the map, tracing the roads and forests. “I do not think an envoy from Rohan will come. Gandalf did not bear good news when he arrived. He brought with him tidings of betrayal of the head of his order, and the spread of that treachery.” Lord Elrond turned to face her fully. “I would like you there, as one who is much used to leading, and one who traveled with Frodo and had seen the Nazgûl face to face, as it were.”

“Of course. The more I know, the more informed I am when it comes time to make decisions.” She hesitated, fingering the map once more. “I have two questions, Lord Elrond. One, may I have a copy of these maps, both of Middle Earth, and the various quadrants and lands, so that I may study and mark as my own?” Lord Elrond smiled gently.

“Take these. I had asked Erestor and Lindir to have the scribes make copies for you. They were surprisingly fast. What was your other question?”

“Thank you. Well, I was wondering, if… if I…” she sighed heavily and looked beseechingly at Lord Elrond. “I said it myself yesterday when we finished tending Frodo. I’m a fighter. And Teddy, well, Teddy knows this. His biggest fear, even after we’ve had five years of peace, is that I won’t come home. That I’ll be slain on a battle field. Do you know anyone trustworthy to take Teddy in if I end up making a decision that puts me out on that field once more?” Her voice trembled, and Lord Elrond grabbed her hand, pulling her up and out of the Library.

“Miss Hariah, any one of us here would be willing to look after your son should you end up on the battle field once more. And he will know that you did it for him, especially if you fall. But the time of the Elves is ending. I would suggest, if you want truly wholesome people, that you look no further than the Rangers, few though they may be. They are dedicated to quietly helping people, and oft go unthanked, though they do not resent that.” She looked at the tapestries lining the hall, depicting ancient kings, battles, and, she noted with surprise, adoption. “I do have a question of my own, however. It seems to me that you know some of what is to come. Does Irmo visit you with visions?” Hariah chuckled.

“You could say that, though it is more messages than visions. I will attend the meeting, Lord Elrond. Thank you for your time. It is time for this little mortal,” the two chuckled at the dig, “to get to bed. Keep an eye on Frodo tonight? His diagnostics, at the last reading, indicated that he should wake in the next twelve hours.” With that, they parted ways, and Hariah’s thoughts turned to the book Strider had given her. It was a clean ledger, meant to teach the elvish language, Sindarin. She was ecstatic; even though she was picking up bits and pieces here and there, she wanted to be able to follow and join the conversations around her.

The next day, the twenty-fourth, she noted, determined not to lose track of the days again, heralded several events. Frodo woke by mid morning, and the envoys from Erebor, Dale, the Greenwood, and Gondor arrived. She saw none of this, though, as she was in lessons with Teddy, with this morning’s lesson being Transfiguration. So the two received a shock at lunch, when the hall was filled seemingly to the brim, and decidedly louder for it. Frodo was sitting, pale, but determined and happy, between Bilbo and Sam, with Merry and Pippin across from them. The two youngest Hobbits had kept the seats next to them open, and she could see that others were disgruntled at the empty seats being off limits. Teddy rushed over to sit next to Merry, and she followed at an even pace, her crutches sounding softly on the flagstones. There, between Arwen and Strider, was an elf with long blond hair and steel blue eyes. He had one arm wrapped around Arwen as he and Strider discussed something to the amusement of Arwen. Elrohir, Elladan, Fred, and George were grouped up near by, and she decided she did not want to get involved. Next Bilbo was an old, stout person, with graying hair. He still had great shocks of red through the braids sported, and she decided this was one of Aulë’s dwarves. Next to this dwarf was one so similar, she decided he was the son or grandson of the first. Across from them, and the most disgruntled about the remaining empty seat (though she could see Pippin glaring at him for putting his pack in it), was a man with chin length dirty blonde hair. He had a rugged appeal, but Hariah was more concerned with the look behind his eyes, like he was still trying to come to terms with something horrible. He jumped, to the amusement of the others at the table, when she tapped his shoulder with her crutch.

“I’m sorry, I know you’ve traveled a long distance through dangerous lands, but could you please move your pack to allow me to sit with my companions, one of whom just woke up sometime today?” The man quickly moved his stuff, bowing slightly and apologizing. While he wasn’t looking, she winked at an amused Strider, both of them remembering when she claimed that most people would see an unarmed, lame female. “Thank you, sir. Frodo, I hope you don’t mind if I wait until after the meal to give you a hug. How are you feeling?” Frodo smiled faintly.

“I have been better, but I feel I would have been worse if you had not helped Lord Elrond in healing me. Thank you, Hariah. I will never be able to repay that debt.” She waved him off. She would not hear talk of debts, particularly not at a meal. “The others have been filling me in. I take it this is your son,Teddy?” He nodded towards Teddy, who waved with a smile.

“Godson, and yes, this is Teddy. Teddy, this is Frodo Baggins. Arwen, am I to assume this blond hanging on you is your betrothed?” Arwen nodded at her cheeky question.

“I’ll introduce the two of you later. Eat and meet others.” The two laughed, and she turned to Bilbo.

“So who else do we have Bilbo?” As she spoke, she piled her plate with venison, greens, and vegetables.

“This here,” he gestured to the dwarf next to him, “is Gloin, son of Groin. Next to him is his son Gimli. Next to you is Boromir, son of Denethor, a man of Gondor. Now eat. You are far too skinny.” Hariah laughed.

“What is it with people telling me that? Teddy, I think we shall cancel afternoon classes for now. There will be none tomorrow, either. But stay productive, okay?” Teddy nodded, and lunch passed quickly.

~~*~~*~~

Hariah was doing yoga in one of the main gardens when those that had been sitting at the table with her filed around. The three younger Hobbits and Teddy, as well as Fred, George, Strider, Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen were quick to join her. All was silent as she finished her routine, before reaching for her med kit to smear some soothing salve over her stump. As she did so, she looked around. The blond Elf, Legolas, she reminded herself, was attempting to copy the motions she went through, with the two Dwarves last with Bilbo, chatting quietly. Two sets of twins were suspiciously silent, and she stared them down briefly, receiving four identical looks of innocence, which she did not believe for one moment, before turning to the last man, Boromir. With a chuckle, she levered herself up onto the bench beside Frodo, pulling him into a side hug. Arm still around Frodo, who leaned gratefully into her side, she smiled gently.

“To what do I own this intrusion of my solitude?” Frodo chuckled as Merry and Pippin protested to use of intrusion, while Teddy pouted up from where he was resting after finishing his routine. Arwen spoke from where she was holding the Downward Dog position.

“Legolas, this lovely lady is Hariah, and the child with the turquoise hair is her child, Teddy. Teddy, Hariah, this is Legolas, my betrothed.” With that, she moved gracefully into the Cobra pose and grinned at her. “Hands off.” The two laughed at the joke they had shared when Arwen had shown her a portrait of Legolas. Strider huffed, having been there at the time, and settled on the ground in front of the bench, leaning against her knee, much to her irritation. Gloin and Gimli glared at Legolas. Boromir shifted on his feet.

“Pull up a spot, Boromir. Don’t hover. Legolas, I teach this in a meditation class in the evenings, if you really want to learn. The first part of the class is actual meditation techniques, the second part is this. I’d teach a third part if Lord Elrond would let me put my prosthetic back on.” Just this morning, Lord Elrond had told her to wait another day before returning to the prosthetic limb, to give the area more rest. Her moue of displeasure spoke quite clearly what she thought of that.

~~*~~*~~

The seventeen individuals chatted until Afternoon Tea, after which they scattered; Arwen and Legolas left to spend time together, Gloin and Gimli when to rejoin their envoy and settle in, Bilbo went to work on his book, Frodo and Sam went to explore, Merry and Pippin disappeared with both sets of twins, Strider accompanied Teddy to the Library, and Boromir faded into the background, leaving her alone. With a sigh, she hefted her pack onto her back and went to find Gandalf and Elrond for more lessons on the lands. She had already filled three, admittedly small, journals with her notes, and they had only covered the Northern lands on both sides of the Misty Mountains. The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly, and soon, she found herself on the training field, teaching meditation and yoga while thought of what tomorrow could bring crossed her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm really trying to work on getting the personalities down. I might slow down from here. I am up to the Council of Elrond, and I'm just trying to get things sorted out.
> 
> As of 2/8/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.


	6. Chapter Five: Decisions Are Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Council meets and the Fellowship is formed. Surprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder:  
> "Talking"  
> 'Thinking' - in Italics  
> Telepathic - in Italics, no quotation marks  
> "Talking" - in Italics indicates Elvish when in Middle Earth  
> "Talking" - in Bold indicates Dwarvish when in Middle Earth  
> Any talking done in Italics or Bold done by Hariah or anyone from Earth will be emphasis, unless otherwise noted. If they are using a different language, I will use Google Translate and put the translation in the end notes, for most languages. Some languages, I will state what they were speaking in, but write in English.
> 
> As of 2/10/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.

The morning of the Council dawned bright and clear, but a chill settled in her bones. She felt a blanket of Darkness and Evil weighing down on Rivendell, and she gathered the wreath she had long since put under a _Stasis_ charm. While Teddy went through his morning routine, she gently pulled the wreath apart, twining a sprig of White Heather and a sprig of Alyssum together and pinning it to the leather vest she would wear with a simple skirt. Her soft under trousers were already on, and she went ahead and strapped the cushions onto the stump. The simple skirt and plain blouse followed, and she quickly pulled on the vest, pulling the bodice style strings tight. That done, she twined many more sets of White Heather and Alyssum. She felt they would need the protection of one and the though clearing scent of the other. She pinned one onto Teddy’s clothes, and called him back from meditation.

“Teddy, I have a meeting today. I do not know how long it will last, but please, unless it is a matter of Life or Death, do not interrupt, okay?” He nodded, and she smiled sadly. “Pippin was right, war is coming. And I will most likely try to fight. It’s not in my nature to sit idly when things should be done. I promise you that, if I go out, I will do my best to return to you. You are my reason for fighting, and this world is our home now.” Teddy looked at her fearfully. “I love you as if you were my own, I want you to know that. As often as I correct people by saying you are my godson, you might as well be my son.” She slid down next to him and gave him a hug. “I love you, Theodore.” The sat like that for an unknown amount of time, before separating. “Alright, get me my tools, so that I can fix my leg during the meeting, then help me carry these flowers. I feel we may need them.”

They made it to the Dining Hall, and before she sat down, she passed out the small posies with a few words that got even the Dwarves to pin them to their vests. Lord Elrond raised an eyebrow as he noted that she focused on those who would be at the council first. As she passed one to him, she explained.

“I feel an aura of Darkness and Evil weighing down upon us. I figure we could use some light protection and something to keep our minds clear today, just in case.” Lord Elrond nodded and patted her shoulder. She thought back to her studies of the Druidic ways, and asked Lord Elrond what he thought the symbolism behind Mistletoe was.

“Mistletoe is used to signify a meeting place where no fighting may take place.” She grinned at him.

“And where is this meeting place? I would like to view it, and possible charm it to help.” Grabbing some fruit to eat later, she followed Lord Elrond’s directions. Once there, she hung Holly on each chair, and Mistletoe on each doorway, before covering the area in some light charm work meant to promote calmness and soothing thoughts. With that, she sat on the stone plinth that held no vase in the middle of the area and quickly ate, even as she started repairs on the metal sheets that formed the “muscles” of her leg, adding charms to help repel dirt and water to prevent the trouble that happened after the Marshes. She was almost finished when she heard Gloin exclaim something about offering insults. Turning, she saw the dwarves glaring up at the mistletoe, and she chuckled.

“Nay Master Gloin. Our hosts offer you no insults. For one, it was I that hung the Mistletoe, and two, Mistletoe being hung at a doorway indicates that no fights may happen past that point. Mistletoe marks a sacred meeting area, and I have a bad feeling about today, hence the flowers, Mistletoe, and Holly.” Gloin settled down, staring at her, before shrugging.

“To us, lass, Mistletoe is used as a threat. But if it puts ya at ease, we won’t fight it. Just do not do so again.” She bowed her head, embarrassed.

“I apologize, Master Gloin. I meant no insult.” Gimli patted her knee as he passed and she watched everyone file in, Strider pulling her from the plinth to sit next to him. He brothers sat, looking quite serious, next to Gandalf, who looked like he had cleaned himself up for once. Next to him, she saw Bilbo and Frodo sitting on the furthest chairs that had little step stools to be used by them to get up without clambering like children. Next to the Wizards sat the Elves of the Greenwood. She and Strider were sitting next to the Men of Gondor who were seated between them and the Greenwood. On her other side sat the Dwarves of Erebor and the Blue Mountains, followed by the Elves of the Haven. The Elves of Rivendell sat with Lord Elrond behind the plinth. She settled back, rubbing an oil-cloth over the metal, carefully setting the cleaned and repaired pieces down, not caring that the oil stained her skirt. As the words and tales flowed around her, she smoothed the ironwood “bone,” adding to the runes to allow more motion. As Frodo and Bilbo’s tale concerning the ring drew to a close, she dropped her prosthetic, staring in horror, slipping into MaPa and Aunt Janine’s native language of Irish as she spoke in a daze.

_“A Thiarna, lig in iúl dó gur rud éigin difriúil é. Ní Horcrux eile, le do toile, uimh.*”_ She bowed her head briefly, murmuring a short prayer of protection. _“Neart den sórt sin sea comhlachtaí beaga sin. Bímid ag súil nach dteipeann air.*"_  Fred and George nodded sadly from where they sat.

“The concept is the same, sister, but there is only one method of destruction.” Surprisingly, they did not switch speakers, though she was unsure which one spoke as she was gazing at Frodo, plainly scared for him. For fifty years, the Ring had lain, mostly dormant, in the hands of two small hobbits, and even longer before then in the hands of another small being. By the sounds of it, the Ring had twisted that small being into something far different than what it once was. She was unaware that she was speaking aloud, until Strider put an hand on her arm.

“You are most likely correct in that theory, Hariah, though I did not think to ask this Gollum how long he had been in possession of the Ring when I captured him and took him the the Greenwood to be held in the prisons there.” He handed her the base of her leg, and she methodically put the prosthetic back together, listening now to Gandalf and Legolas as they gave their tales. She did not take notice as they faltered when she pulled her skirts up to attach the leg, or of the quiet as she stood to give the leg a shake, allowing things to fall into place. But with the conclusions of the tales, and the presence of the ring on the plinth, Boromir stood, and she kept her eyes on him, watching him struggle between the thought clearing effect of the Alyssum and the strength of the Evil in the Ring. As Boromir reached out to the Ring, Gandalf started to speak, and the language sent pain right through her as though she were back in Voldemort’s hideout, being tortured once more. She was unaware of sliding out of her seat, or the reactions of everyone else. She was only aware of her memories and of someone holding her upright as she fought to return to reality.

“This is no mere Ranger!” Legolas’ exclamation was the next thing she was aware of, and she shook off Strider’s grip to drop a silk kerchief of seven layers and embroidered over and over with runes protecting against evil, over the Ring, dampening its presence. “This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” Strider, Aragorn, she supposed, looked faintly embarrassed.

“Aragorn? This is Isildur’s Heir?” Aragorn gave the faintest of nods, and she made note that despite the misgivings she could barely read, he squared his shoulders and stood tall.

“And heir to the throne of Gondor.” Legolas sounded quite proud of his friend, and she stared at Aragorn. Sure, he was well mannered, but she wouldn’t have thought him as royalty before. Looking back, she could see it, but then? No.

_“Havo dad,_ Legolas.”* Aragorn waved a hand at his friend. Before he could react, Boromir looked back at Legolas with the barest of sneers.

“Gondor has no king.” He turned and started back to his seat. “Gondor needs no king.” This was said to Aragorn, sounding almost like a warning. She stood there, wavering, when Aragorn gestured her back to her seat. As Gandalf started to speak, Aragorn whispered in her ear.

“I am still the same man you traveled with and fought with. I do not wish to take the throne, though it looks like I have little choice in the matter now, if Lord Elrond and Gandalf have their way. They have long wanted me to follow my birth right.” As Elrond stated that the Ring must be destroyed, and could only be done in the fires of Mordor, Boromir spoke again.

“One does not simply walk into Mordor.” She snorted.

“Oh I reckon there are ways to get in unseen. Even the most secure fortress will have unseen entrances that the Lord or Lady does not know of.” Heated words were exchanged between people as they mildly argued over who would take the Ring. She was pleased to note, however, that everyone was well aware of what the Mistletoe represented, and tried to keep from full out fighting words.

“I will take the Ring.” Her eyes snapped to Frodo, gripping Aragorn’s arm as she noticed the resigned look on Gandalf’s face. No one else seemed to hear Frodo’s words, though they seemed to pause, as if they had heard something. Elrond also looked pained as he looked at Frodo.

“We will not leave him alone, will we Aragorn?” She knew she wouldn’t, but Aragorn patted her hand with a strained chuckle. “Of course not, Hariah. He has earned that much and more from us.”

“I will take the Ring to Mordor!” At this, everyone stilled and stared at the small being with feared awe. Here was one much braver than any one else, and he was no warrior. “Though, I do not know the way.” He lowered her eyes, and she forced a chuckle down. Now was not the time to voice amusement. Gandalf stood and put a withered hand on Frodo’s shoulder.

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.” Aragorn stood from his seat beside her, and with the eyes of the entire council on him, knelt in front of the Hobbit.

“If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.” With the eyes still on Aragorn, Frodo, and Gandalf, Hariah reached up and pulled her locket from her vest. Inside were moving pictures of her parents, her guardians, her brothers, her godfather and honorary uncle, and her godson. As she stared at them, she heard Legolas.

“And you have my bow.”

“And my axe,” Gimli was quick to add in a very blustery fashion. She could just imagine exasperated look on Legolas’ face, as well as the look of resignation on Gimli’s. It was Boromir’s voice that shocked her.

“You carry the fate of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.” Before she could speak up, Sam came running from the bushes behind where Frodo had been sitting.

“Here now! Master Frodo’s not going anywhere without me!” Elrond looked shocked, before faint amusement took his expression.

“No, indeed. It it hard to keep the two of you separated, even one one is invited to a secret council and the other is not.”

“Oh, was this secret? I told my Teddy I would be here for who knows how long, though I did tell him that he was only to bother me in emergencies.” Lord Elrond gave her a blank stare, and she grinned even as Merry and Pippin made themselves known from the main door.

“Oy! We’re coming too!”

“You’ll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us! Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission … quest … thing.” Hariah knew Pippin was just trying to lighten the atmosphere, and she suspected Merry did too, for he looked at his cousin with a strange gleam that told her he was about to be savage in his response.

“Well that rules you out, Pip.” Chocked laughter sounded around the open gazebo, and Pippin glared at his cousin. Lord Elrond stared at the nine gathered.

“Nine companions.” She interrupted before he could continue, putting her locket back in her vest.

“Ten companions, Lord Elrond. Ten. Back in Bree, when Gandalf did not show, I swore an oath to protect these four Hobbits, though I did not speak it aloud. Here, I swear a different one. Frodo, I will do what I can to help you for as long as you allow it. I know the basic ways of evil, and the smallest ways to fight it. As long as you will allow me to accompany you, I will be there.” She knelt, much like Aragorn had, but instead held out one of her daggers across her wrist. “My blades shall protect you, and should they fail, they will quench their bloodlust with my life blood.” Frodo, perhaps guided by instinct, perhaps because he knew what to do, took the offered blade, and handed it back to her, handle first.

“So be it. Ten companions. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” Lord Elrond stared at her, still kneeling on the ground, even as Boromir tried to object to her presence.

~~*~~*~~

As Aragorn, son of Arathorn, entered the gazebo set aside for the council, he stifled a chuckle to see the Holly and Mistletoe, as well as a very distracted Hariah sitting on the plinth as she repaired her prosthetic, crutches on the ground. Only the displeasure of the Dwarves at the Mistletoe kept him from picking her up and setting her in the chair next to him. As she explained herself, he went to her, pulling her from her seat and guiding her to a chair. Those that knew him would see that he held her opinion in high regard, those that did not would think she was another Ranger. And she could be. She knew enough of wilderness survival to be a Ranger.

“Why is a woman here? She should be tending to the child that was called her son yesterday.” Aragorn stared at the whisperers, the most persistent of which were from the two envoys of Men, and the rudest of which were the Men from Gondor. Hariah, it seemed took no notice of this.

“This woman has faced the Nazgûl three times and lived to tell the tale. She has as much right to be here as any one of us.” His quiet words caused them to quiet, staring at the short woman beside him, who did not twitch in her steady motions of cleaning and etching the sheets of metal that composed her prosthetic leg.

“Friends and strangers of distant lands. You are gathered here today to answer the threat of Mordor.” As Lord Elrond started the council, all but Hariah stopped what they were doing and payed attention. But she slowed, indicating that she was listening, even as she ignored the pointed looks of those around her. As Bilbo and then Frodo told their tale of the Ring, Hariah stopped all motion, having dropped her prosthetic with a loud clatter that startled everyone, and stared in horror.

_“A Thiarna, lig in iúl dó gur rud éigin difriúil é. Ní Horcrux eile, le do toile, uimh.”_ The language was as smooth as Sindarin, with weird sounds that might seem more at home in Khuzdul. _“Neart den sórt sin sea comhlachtaí beaga sin. Bímid ag súil nach dteipeann air.”_ Morinehtar and Rómestámo nodded sadly from where they sat, seemingly understanding what she had said.

“The concept is the same, sister, but there is only one method of destruction.” They spoke as one, and Hariah did not twitch, instead speaking in a voice barely audible, and had anyone else been talking, she would not have been heard. Thankfully, she had gone back to Westron.

“For fifty years, the Ring has lain, mostly dormant, in the hands of two small hobbits, and even longer before then in the hands of another small being. By the sounds of it, the Ring has twisted that small being into something far different than what it once was.” He laid a hand on her arm, pulling her shocked gaze to him.

“You are most likely correct in that theory, Hariah, though I did not think to ask this Gollum how long he had been in possession of the Ring when I captured him and took him the the Greenwood to be held in the prisons there.” As he handed back the base of her prosthetic, he noticed that Legolas twitched, and when Aragorn looked over, he saw that Legolas looked guilty.

As Aragorn listened to first Legolas’ then Gandalf’s tale, he was amused to note that everyone got distracted as Hariah, with no thought before hand, pulled her skirt up to reveal her leg in order to attach the now assembled prosthetic. Nor did she note everyone stop when she stood and shook her leg, watching as the metal shifted into place. It was quite amusing.

Boromir standing pulled his attention from the woman at his side, and he noted Legolas staring at him with an eyebrow raised. The two silently conversed, Legolas teasing him for his attention to Hariah, and him denying anything and everything, when Gandalf started to speak using the Black Tongue. Hariah slid from her chair, seemingly in pain, trying to claw at her forehead. He slid down beside her, grabbing her wrists and restraining her even as Gandalf stopped.

“It is a gift. It is a gift to the enemies of Mordor!” Aragorn rolled his eyes as he released Hariah’s wrists and examined the self inflicted scratches on her forehead. They were slowly dripping blood, though she seemed unable to hear or see anything right now.

“No one can wield it. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone.” Boromir sneered at him.

“What would a Ranger know of this?” Legolas jumped up, and Aragorn sighed.

“This is no mere Ranger!” Legolas’ voice snapped her out of it, and before he could try and steady her further, she escaped his grasp and dropped a thick white kerchief heavily decorated in gold embroidery over the Ring. He was surprised to note that the angry presence in the room faded. “This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” Hariah stared at him, and he silently scolded himself for not telling her sooner. Or the Hobbits, as Frodo looked quite shocked, and faintly betrayed.

“Aragorn? This is Isildur’s Heir?” Aragorn let his head dip briefly, even as he squared his shoulders and brought his head up high. Not exactly the conversation he wanted to happen here, considering what he remembered of Denethor, but it could not be swayed. Although, Boromir did sound faintly hopeful, hard pressed as he was to hear it.

“And heir to the throne of Gondor.” He’d have to talk to Legolas about that pride, really. While he was grateful to have a friend like Legolas, this pride could be the downfall of either one of them... or both.

_“Sit down,_ Legolas.” Aragorn motioned to his friend to back off, and Legolas glanced at him confused as Boromir turned back.

“Gondor has no king.” He turned and started back to his seat. “Gondor needs no king.” Boromir sneered at Aragorn, and he just looked at him. Hariah was still hovering in front of the plinth, eyes rapidly moving between the two men, and everyone else was staring either at the plinth, Hariah, or the men. He sighed minutely and gestured Hariah back to her seat.

“I am still the same man you traveled with and fought with. I do not wish to take the throne, though it looks like I have little choice in the matter now, if Lord Elrond and Gandalf have their way. They have long wanted me to follow my birth right.” Hariah relaxed as she sat back down, hand resting lightly on his arm. As Elrond stated that the Ring must be destroyed, and could only be done in the fires of Mordor, Boromir spoke again.

“One does not simply walk into Mordor.” A snort sounded from the woman beside him.

“Oh I reckon there are ways to get in unseen. Even the most secure fortress will have unseen entrances that the Lord or Lady does not know of.” Here words went mostly unheard as debates broke out across the room, everyone careful to keep the words from becoming fighting words.

“I will take the Ring.” The tightening of the hand on his arm told him that Hariah had also heard the soft words. His eyes flickered between Gandalf’s resigned face and Elrond’s pained visage, and knew they had feared this.

“We will not leave him alone, will we Aragorn?” The voice in his ear was faintly pleading, and he patted her hand, trying to figure out why this scared her more than the Nazgûl did.

“Of course not, Hariah. He has earned that much and more from us.” _As have you; I will fight for your inclusion,_ he thought, gently squeezing her hand.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor!” Frodo’s voice was much stronger this time, and the council turned towards him. “Though, I do not know the way.” He lowered her eyes, and he found himself thinking that it would be astounding if he had known the way. Gandalf stood and put a withered hand on Frodo’s shoulder.

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.” Aragorn gently shrugged Hariah’s hand off of his arm and knelt in front of Frodo, grasping his arms and staring at him seriously.

“If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.” He stood back up, and moved to stand beside the Hobbit, noticing that Hariah was staring at something in her hand.

“And you have my bow.” Legolas was very quick to follow, and Aragorn’s eyes snapped to his friend.

“And my axe,” The blustering voice of the son of Gloin sounded, and Aragorn found himself mentally preparing himself for the arguments to come. Legolas glanced at the dwarf, clearly exasperated, even as Gimli looked resigned to his fate of traveling with an elf. Boromir’s voice seemed to snap Hariah back to the proceedings, even as he struggled not to stare in surprise at the change of heart.

“You carry the fate of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.” Before anyone could continue, Sam came running from the bushes behind where Frodo had been sitting.

“Here now! Master Frodo’s not going anywhere without me!” Aragorn watched as shock settled into faint amusement as Lord Elrond replied.

“No, indeed. It it hard to keep the two of you separated, even one one is invited to a secret council and the other is not.”

“Oh, was this secret? I told my Teddy I would be here for who knows how long, though I did tell him that he was only to bother me in emergencies.” Aragorn heard muffled laughter behind him; he turned and noted Morinehtar and Rómestámo had covered their mouths, eyes glinting in amusement, and Bilbo was doubled over trying to catch his breath.

“Oy! We’re coming too!” He turned back around to stare in shock as Merry and Pippin came running from the door.

“You’ll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us! Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission … quest … thing.” Aragorn felt an eyebrow raise against his will at Pippin’s words.

“Well that rules you out, Pip.” Aragorn nearly chocked at Merry’s response even as Elrond nodded.

“Nine companions.” Wait, was Hariah not going to join? Aragorn looked over to see Hariah stand, tucking something into her vest as she approached.

“Ten companions, Lord Elrond. Ten. Back in Bree, when Gandalf did not show, I swore an oath to protect these four Hobbits, though I did not speak it aloud. Here, I swear a different one.” Aragorn froze. This quest was not one for oaths, as it was too perilous and dark. This quest was one where there was no shame in turning back if one could not handle things. “Frodo, I will do what I can to help you for as long as you allow it. I know the basic ways of evil, and the smallest ways to fight it. As long as you will allow me to accompany you, I will be there.” She knelt, much like he had, but instead held out one of her daggers across her wrist, and Aragorn placed a hand between Frodo’s shoulder blades. Beside him, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf all stared in shock. “My blades shall protect you, and should they fail, they will quench their bloodlust with my life blood.” Frodo needed no prompting to take the blade and hold it out handle first for Hariah to retrieve; a silent command to talk later about the specifics.

“So be it. Ten companions. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” Even as Elrond spoke, he stared strangely at Hariah, still kneeling in front of Frodo.

“Can she even use those blades? She’s a woman, and looks barely into her adult years. She’ll be a hinderance to travel with.”Aragorn turned to the man as he muttered.

“She crossed swords with two Nazgûl at the same time, and matched them strike for strike. They only fled because of the fire. She can fight. She can fight well.” The gazebo had cleared of all but the Fellowship, Morinehtar, Rómestámo, Bilbo, and Lord Elrond. A scuffle by the door drew their attention before anyone else could speak.

~~*~~*~~

Hariah sighed as she turned towards the door. She already knew who was there. Sure enough, Teddy was framed in the doorway, looking like her carbon copy, curling inwards.

“Mum? Are- Are you going to the field again?” His voice was small, and she trembled at the fear in it.

“Yes, dear. I don’t know when we leave, and I don’t know when I’ll return, but I am returning to the field. Come here.” She reached out, and Teddy all but flew into her arms, trembling. She sighed as she spied an Extendable Ear. “You heard all of it, didn’t you?” He nodded against her neck and she squeezed him tighter. “Then you know that I feel obligated to see this through. That I cannot abide this happening. This is our home now, and I will not stand aside.” Before they could do or say anything, there was a gentle flash of light, like the sun moving quickly over an area, and Fred and George gasped. Eyes closed and face pressed into Teddy’s hair, she growled. “I’ve had it up to here with strange things happening. I don’t care if that was a person arriving or one of the damned Valar appearing, why can’t things just flow without interruption for once?”

“I take it you aren’t happy to see me, then, little sister?” Hariah froze, pulling her face from Teddy’s hair to peer at the newcomer. There stood Lee, his near six foot frame lithely muscled, fists on his hips, staring at her with a mix of worry and anger. The crowning point was the tapping of his foot, and she made a split-second decision.

“Umm... Lee!” The false cheer made Teddy flinch, and Lee stomped forward, grabbing the back of her collar as she tried to turn and walk away.

“Three months little sister. That’s how long it’s been since I have seen you or Teddy, and all you say is _Umm...Lee!_? No, that will not do. The two of you are all I have left and that will not do.” She sighed and pressed her head against Lee’s arm.

“Then you will not like to hear this request of mine.” Lee peered closely at her, not releasing her collar even as he scooped Teddy into a hug.

“You aren’t staying. You’re going back out into the field.” She nodded quietly. “Dammit. Dammit, Hariah. Why?”

“Tom. Kinda. Same concept.” Lee hung his head and released her.

“If you get yourself captured and tortured again, I will lock you in a tower with no means of escape. And if you fall down the Dark, I will kill you myself. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” she growled, before the two grinned at each other. Lee pulled her into a strong embrace, and she clutched the back of his robes.

“I look after Teddy for you, but you better return.” Hariah nodded with a silent chuckle, before Lord Elrond spoke.

“They won’t leave for a couple of months. One of their party still needs to heal, and we need to send out scouts learn more of the roads while they prepare and learn each others strengths and weaknesses.

A long discussion followed, leading long past Lunch and Afternoon Tea, mostly about what everyone thought they would need for the trip. Hariah had quickly pulled another silk kerchief out and passed it to Lee so that he could make a neck pouch for the Ring. When it was finished, she scooped up the Ring, keeping it bundled in the first kerchief, and stuffed the bundle into the pouch. She pressed firmly to make sure the Ring was still there, before passing the pouch to Frodo.

“Here. Silk is a natural dampener for Mind Altering Magics such as that little trinket, and that there has no less that fourteen layers of raw-spun silk between around it. As we get closer to its Master, it might grow stronger than the silk, but that also has protection runes embroidered onto it, so... I’m not making any promises, but I’m also not saying it will fail, you see?” Frodo nodded, and she sat back, stroking Teddy’s hair. Boromir was still trying to argue against her involvement, and she was just letting Aragorn shoot him down time and again. Glancing at the sun, she noted it had been too long since she and Teddy had last eaten, and stood.

“Boromir, if you really want to see for yourself if I will be a burden or not, join me tomorrow morning, three hours before sunrise. I will have my longsword, my long daggers, my knives, and my bow, though I do not like to use it in fights. But right now, I have not eaten since breakfast, and that was abnormally small for me, being only a couple pieces of fruit.

~~*~~*~~

By lunchtime the next day, Boromir was forced to admit that Hariah would not be a burden should a fight break out. She chuckled darkly at him from across the arena, wearing nothing but leather trousers, boots, and chest bindings, having shed her shirt at the beginning of her workout. The metallic tattoos shone in the noon sun, and she was well aware of the stares she was receiving from most people on the training grounds. She was different like this, rather than the one legged woman who led meditation and wore simple, yet surprisingly elegant, dresses. She was dangerous, and strong, and used to using preconceived notions against her opponents.

At dinner that night, she was seen talking quietly with her brother, dark brown dreadlocks blending with ebony braids as their heads were bent close over many books. No one asked, however, as they were both chuckling quite darkly, and the words, _they will never forget this prank_ , had many sweating in fear, remembering Elrohir and Elladan’s pranking habits.

~~*~~*~~

The last of the scouts, with the exception of Elrohir and Elladan, who had been spotted returning, were back, and it was almost time for the Fellowship to leave. Frodo’s shoulder was as healed as it was going to get, and basic bonds had formed between everyone. Hariah was calmly removing clothes and armor to pack from her wardrobe. Lee was doing his own examination of the reports, grumbling about Fred and George up and leaving (they had claimed Wizardly Duties, and left in a whirlwind of horse hooves), and Teddy was off, most likely causing some sort of mischief.

Four sets of shirts and under trousers were put into one pile, followed quickly by two sets of leather armor and a set of basilisk hide armor. Her matching basilisk hide boots and belt were quickly added to the pile, and she looked at her cloaks. A dark woolen cloak, lined with emerald green silk, with a shoulder wrap closure joined the pile. In contrast to the few garments she had, three weeks worth of underwear, socks, and chest bindings were added to the pile.

Her weapons went into another pile, both swords, followed by her twin long daggers, and twenty one knives from her hair alone, and another fourteen hidden throughout her clothes. Her quiver of arrows and bow joined the pile, as well as various care kits. She would run maintenance before she packed, but right now, she just needed to sort everything out.

Her camping gear formed another pile. A Wizarding Tent, her mess kit and a large mesh drawstring bag, her two bars of soap in their new waxed and oiled canvas drawstrings, another drawstring bag holding her clothesline and pins, her washboard, and several matchbooks and flint sets were all set aside for inspection. On a whim, she made another pile that consisted of the travel kit items she had made during her war, enough now for each person of the company. She wouldn’t push, but she would offer.

With a sigh, she sat back and closed her wardrobe, watching as it returned to her trunk. Lee sat on the bed, papers and maps around him, her pack in his hand.

“Well, there isn’t too much damage to the pack, but the runes are starting to unravel. I’ll fix that, then we can figure out a way to keep it from doing so again. It’s a shame I couldn’t make this out of basilisk hide, but then I wouldn’t have been able to put the rune into it. How goes the sorting?” Hariah huffed as she stretched, rubbing at her stump. Her prosthetic was in pieces, in another pile, joined by her crutches and peg leg. Two of the charms had exploded, not wanting to work together, and she now had minor burns for her troubles.

“It goes. I have everything from the wardrobe sorted out. Lee, if I tell them what sort of charms are on my pack, would you be willing to do the same to theirs, should they want it?” She would only admit it word for word under extreme duress, but Lee knew her well enough that she was fond of the Fellowship, and wanted to help them as much as she could.

“Of course, _beag deirfiúr.*_ If they wish to have that advantage, I will be glad to give it. Have you set the new portkeys to take us between the hideout and here?” Lee cast a bright orb of light and threaded his needle.

“Yeah, they’re in the bed side table. Passcode is the same. Did you finish the salves last night?” Lee hummed, and she opened the Potions Cabinet, making quick work of restocking her med kit. The kit, her box of teas, and hair care joined the camp gear, and she closed the compartment. She grabbed a scroll case from where it had rolled under the edge of the the bed and examined it.

The scroll case was a new experiment of hers, giving her a place to store parchment, quills, and ink together. When opened, it had a folded piece of wood that made a writing surface. So far, the runes were holding, and the next test was to take it out into the field, where it was meant to be used. She added it to her camping gear and sat back against her closed trunk, surveying the organized chaos around her, even as Teddy trudged through the door, muddy and shivering, heading towards the tub without being told.

“Clothes, weapons, gear, armor. Miscellaneous necessities. What do you think?” But neither Lee nor Teddy answered her. Boromir’s voice sounded from the door, startling all but Teddy.

“Sounds about right, but how are you going to carry that? It looks to be too much for that small pack.” After the grudging acceptance that she wouldn’t be a burden, the two managed to get along most of the time, more like how Ron and Hermione got along; friends, but forever arguing. Hariah cocked her head, taking in the fact that the man was also muddied, though had attempted to clean up the majority of it. Legolas and Gimli were heard arguing as they came down the hall, and Aragorn’s smooth tones came from the opposite direction, mixing with the voices of the Hobbits. With a sigh, she flicked her wand, setting up a curtain blocking Teddy from view and cleaning up the rest of the mud from Boromir.

“Lee is fixing the runes that expand the inside and make it lightweight. When he first made the pack, I was carrying everything our little entourage needed for our camps, and we were constantly on the move, so the lightweight was especially needed. Due to the danger of this mission, though, I think it will be especially good, particularly to carry extra rations. I’ve been filling extra packs with nothing but rations these last two months, and I plan on storing those away for extreme emergency. But still, having plenty of room will most definitely come in handy, one way or another.” Boromir nodded, sitting down across from her. She could see that he had his pack with him.

“Merry thought of a, what were his words again... Oh, packing party, where we all worked together to make sure everyone had what they needed. Good idea, really.” They nodded, and Lee tossed her her pack.

“Boromir, did you want the same charms on your pack?” As Hariah moved her piles closer, making more room for everyone as they filed in, Boromir unpacked his pack and handed it over. Pippin wasted no time in poking through her piles.

“Riah,” Pippin had not listened and shortened her name, though she was glad he hadn’t gone for Hari, “how are you going to bundle your clothes? You have way more undergarments than garments.” As Sam scolded him for his lack of manners, she got to laugh at the discomfited looks that were passed around.

“Pippin, do you remember the horrible itching I had during the travel here?” At his nod, she continued, even as she started to bundle the four sets of garments together. “That was because of the sweat that had gathered in my undergarments. It took longer for it to affect you because of your looser clothing. This time, I plan to change my undergarments as often as possible, because I do not want to deal with the itchiness if I can help it. The garments are to protect my skin from my armor. In any case, I’ll bundle the garments then bundle the undergarments separately. I’ve been gathering as many leather ties as I can for a reason.” As she spoke, each of the Hobbits had started to repack their own clothes, bundling much like they had back in Bree. She was amused to note that Aragorn was doing the same, and Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli were examining one of her bundles. She could see why they were doing so, since the bundles were extremely small, and compact, taking up less room than merely folding did.

“Boromir, even if her pack did not have the charms it does, that there is why most of everything would fit in her pack, small as it is. Hariah, don’t forget those wool blankets you washed last week.” With a muffled curse, she crawled over to the blankets, tossing them at a waiting Legolas, who set them down with her stuff.

“There’s actually one for each of us. We’re approaching mid winter, and the weather will get colder out, plus those have been treated for extra waterproofing.” Once back at the group, she unrolled her bedroll and added the grey wool blanket to it, rolling it back up. Her armor was folded, the spare set of leather set aside to go into the back, and the basilisk and leather set aside with one set of garments and undergarments for when they were to leave. The boots and belt joined that pile, and a spare belt joined the things to be packed.

“Hariah, what are these?” Gimli’s voice was thoroughly confused, and she looked up. Legolas was weighing the two soaps, Gimli was inspecting a washboard, and Boromir was poking at a mess kit. Thankfully, they weren’t from her gear.

“It’s various camp gear. What you’re holding, Gimli, is a washboard, meant to help wash clothes. It unfolds to a decent size, and can hook onto a river bed as well as the side of a tub. Legolas, the white soap is for dishes, just shave a few flakes into some water and wash. The yellow soap is for hair, body, and clothes. It lathers no matter how cold the water is, and has no scent. The bags are waxed and oiled, making them rather water resistant, and this also help is keeping the soaps from marking everything in your bag.” Merry blushed; he had not stored his soap in a side pocket like everyone else, and within a couple of days the soap had marked all his belongings. “Boromir, that’s a mess kit. It’s especially useful when on your own, because that handle holding it shut can be used on either the shallow dish to make a pan or the deep dish to make it a pot. Otherwise they are just a plate and bowl. Inside, it holds a cup and utensils. All into a neat little package that keeps the dirt out. I also have, in the small drawstring bags, clothesline and pins, and there are matchbooks and flint. There is enough there for you each to take a set, and one for Gandalf. But only if you desire it. I won’t force it on you.” She looked to inspect her gear, and therefore missed everyone tossing items about, making sure everyone had one of each. Quietly, she felt along for any weaknesses in her gear, and satisfied that they were all in good shape, they were put in the packing pile. Her teas, scroll case, med kit, and hair kit were added, and a box appearing before her nose kept her from moving on to her prosthetics.

Looking past the box, she saw a smirking Glorfindel, hair still neon pink and orange from her last prank. Upon closer inspection, she noted that the box contained ground Kafe beans.

“You may not be able to fix it every day, but here. It’s the last of the Kafe from the kitchens, and I just ground it for you. It’s gone fast, surprisingly, especially when you consider that, before you, I had never met anyone who liked the drink.” She grinned, accepting the box gingerly.

“Thank you Glorfindel. I was just going to resign myself to not having any, and now I don’t have to face that for a little while longer.” Silently, she removed the spells holding the dyes in his hair in place, and placed the box with her teas. Glorfindel was already prancing out the door, and she resisted the urge to trip him. Aragorn spoke up from where he had been mostly quiet.

“It looks like everyone has the essentials, plus some. All that’s missing is rations, and we need to see who will have enough room in their packs to carry them.” The soft thud of Boromir’s pack hitting the ground beside hime sounded, and Lee stood to stretch.

“I can help with that by expanding the packs and and making them weigh no more than five pounds. If anyone wants that, put the packs on the bed, I’ll get to it in a minute. Just be aware, the charms are seated in the embroidery I’d add to it.” With that, Lee left the room, mumbling about food. Teddy emerged from his bath, clean, warm, and wrapped in a brightly colored wool blanket, and sat down beside Hariah. They chuckled as packs were quickly set on the bed, and soon, they were all inspecting their weapons. She had Teddy sharpening her knives so that she could look over her arrows and check the supplies in her quiver. Extra bowstrings, arrowheads, and wax were stored in the pocket, accepting an extra block of wax from Legolas with a quiet word of thanks. Gimli, Aragorn, and Boromir were teaching the Hobbits how to care for their little blades, and she moved on to her twin daggers.

_“Ah, mo lanna iontach, Eagla agus Dóchas. Déanfaidh tú tart arís agus déanfar é a dhíscaoileadh.*”_ These two blades were the only she had named, as they were the only ones bade by her, though all were charmed to return to her. She ignored the startled looks at her dark tone, and tested the blades. Only her sword was left. Teddy was gathering the pieces to her prosthetic, sorting and cleaning as he went. Quiet chatter broke out as Lee returned with a platter of cold cuts, bread, fruit, and juice.

“Lord Elrond is preparing rations, looks like as soon as the smoked meats are done, which looks like it’ll be another day or so, you should be heading out.” He then pointed to the packs. “Those may take me a few hours. I’ll get started now.” He ran a hand over Teddy’s hair. “Wanna learn, _nia_?*” Teddy scrambled to join him, and a quiet lesson got started as Gimli turned to her.

“What about ye, lass? Do ye know how to do these?” He gestured at the runes, and she chuckled weakly.

“Ah, kind of, Gimli. See here on my prosthetics, I’ve engraved permanent runes, much like the embroidered ones are. But I cannot embroider. I can do basic sewing and mending, but it tries my patience to do so, and I often explode things when frustrated. I prefer working with wood and metal. As it is, I need to fix this prosthetic. Two of the runes did not like each other. Magics can be abrasive, and sometimes, two magics don’t like to work.It looks like the two different cleaning spells are two of those magics. One was to discourage rust, and the other was to keep it from getting filled with gunk, like when walking through a marsh. I guess I’ll just keep the first.” Her hand went back to the stump, and Aragorn motioned to her leg.

“Hurting?” She sighed, and removed the soft cloth that had beed covering the burn, keeping the burn salve from spreading as it was absorbed.

“Just some minor burns from the small explosion the magic created. It will be healed by tomorrow. Nothing bad, see?” This man, it seemed, was very determined to coddle her in a, thankfully, rather unobtrusive way.

With her weapons finished, and the prosthetic gathered to take to the forge, it was time to pack. Methodically, she put her spare leathers and an extra wool blanket down first, followed by her garments, tent, and med kit. In the inner pockets that lined the inside of the pack, she put her matchbooks, flints, and clothes line, and the Kafé and tea boxes were spelled to keep from spilling before being put in the pack with the hair care. Her mess kit followed, also put in a pocket. The front pocket held the scroll case and, when she was done, prosthetics, and a side pocket got the soap. Her blade care kits were put in the main body, and she double checked her list. With a softly uttered curse, she grabbed her washboard and put it in the opposite side pocket, then reached under the bed to pull the three packs that had the emergency rations, and put those, shrunk, into her pack.

“Done.” She looked around and nearly chocked as she saw Merry and Pippin testing the limits of the expanding charm... by trying to put Pippin into the pack. “Boys! One of two things will happen if you continue to try that. Either the charms will fail, trapping Pippin, or the charms will explode, harming the both of you, and those around. Stop it.”

~~*~~*~~

Legolas had to keep from laughing as he heard his friend sigh. Though he continually denied it, Legolas knew his friend was smitten with this strong willed mortal. When he had first seen her, walking almost silently on those crutches he had occasionally seen King Dain of Erebor use, he couldn’t figure out if she was a warrior or a healer. Her sharp eyes and strong body said warrior, but the way she gently handled the Hobbits said Healer.But now, he knew she was a warrior first, mother second, healer third, teacher fourth, and crafter last. And despite her stubborn streak a furlong wide, and the attitude, Aragorn was falling for her. So he found that he wanted to learn more about her. His own love adored this woman, calling her a sister, and the little Hobbits were determined to feed her as much as they could. Aragorn had even fought for her in the council, though she hadn’t seemed to notice, working with the odd pieces of metal in her lap instead.

As the two youngest Hobbits stopped messing around, she stood and, while balancing quite easily on one leg, bent and tossed her pack onto the bed, her brother and son moving quite easily to avoid it as they finished up the last of the packs, his and Aragorn’s. She then scooped up the clothes and armor set aside what he assumed was for when they headed out, and folded it neatly on top of the beautiful trunk, perching next to the stack.

~~*~~*~~

Gimli, son of Gloin, unobtrusively watched the lass that was to join them on the quest. She was strong, and Aragorn had said she had matched two of the wretched Ring Wraiths stroke for stroke, and he liked her blunt attitude and stubbornness. Sure, she occasionally had a darker aura than most, but she was pure in a way not even the Hobbits could hop to match. Gimli was looking forward to seeing was she would bring.

That, and it was amusing to watch her and Aragorn dance around each other. He seemed more aware of his feelings, but it would be amusing to watch it all catch up to her.

~~*~~*~~

Boromir had to stop himself from reaching out to steady the young woman who was now perching on her trunk, son and brother both glaring lightly at her as they worked. After being so vehemently against her inclusion, and his sound defeat by her the next day, with her barely out of breath, he had pestered her about her past. Surely, she must be some sort of vagrant to be so well trained in fighting; after all, she was a woman.

But all it got him was a dark tale, one full of strife and war, but no crime beyond war crimes committed against her. She told him how she had fallen, and tasted the power and addiction of the dark, but fought to not stray because she could not shatter her brother and son. Told of how she both tortured and was tortured. She told of how she herself had been like the Ring, a vessel for someone else’s soul and power. Boromir had sworn an oath, though had not spoken aloud, to protect this woman, and he had come to view her, in these last two months, as a little sister, one he was proud of. She strengthened his resolve to be strong in the face of the Ring, though Frodo kept it wrapped deeply in silk, and that did help, all of them.

_“People don’t bother you when you have friends, because you’re strong. You have support. But when it’s just you, well, you aren’t all that scary.”_ Her voice filtered through his mind, and he smiled from where he was finishing up packing his pack. Glancing at Aragorn as he moved his pack over by the door, and taking note of Gandalf watching from the shadows with a small smile, he wondered if Gondor really did need a King or not. He could tell Aragorn was a good man, but he’d reserve judgement.

~~*~~*~~

Gandalf puffed on his pipe with a twinkle in his eyes as he watched they young woman bully Aragorn into teaching her how to make a pipe so that she didn’t have to steal his all the time. A burst of light brought his attention, and he noted Hariah motioning him in.

“Don’t just stand there, old man. Come in, settle in. I have some extra camp gear if you want some. Soaps, washboard, mess kit, matchbooks, flints, clothesline and clothespins.” He shook his head, even as he combed through his beard.

“No, my dear. Thank you for the thought, but I have all the gear I need. I see everyone else is packing, what about you?”

“Done and done, I just need to go to the forge and fix my prosthetic, again. Magic is quite annoying on occasion, useful as it is.” Gandalf hummed and looked over everyone else. They’re packs had new decorations on them, and he wondered briefly, before turning to watch Frodo. It looked like the silk barriers were helping dampen the influence of the Ring, young Hariah did know her stuff.

~~*~~*~~

With a sigh, Hariah pulled on a leg warmer over her leggings, pulled on a thick skirt, and draped her woolen cloak on, her prosthetic bag hanging off her belt. Slipping her hands through the crutches, she stood.

“Don’t wait up for me, I just need to get a head start on this damn leg so that it’s ready in time. I may be all night, I may be in late. Only bother me for breakfast, okay?” Without waiting for a response, she left the room, and made her way to the forge. This was going to be a long night.

It was nearly Lunchtime when she came back to herself, noting the remains of her breakfast off the the side, but in front of her stood a prosthetic leg, put together, and covered in a leather sock. The leather had been a last minute idea, and she had asked the Elven Leatherworker for help in making it, but it now made the leg look just like her other one under her clothes.

Rubbing her eyes, she double checked her work, before dismantling it and putting it in the bag. She needed to get a nap, then make sure her leg was healed before the prosthetic went back on. Quickly, she cleaned her work station, and thanked the blacksmith for allowing her to work through the night. Aragorn joined her on the walk back, carrying a small sack.

“All done?” She nodded quietly, allowing the taller man to guide her towards her room. “Good. You look exhausted. We leave tomorrow morning. I have lunch for you. I’ll let you have a few hours, but Bilbo wants all of us for Afternoon Tea.”

“Why? Why all of us?” Her words, she was ashamed to admit, were slurred in a way they hadn’t been since the first time she got drunk.

“I don’t know. I guess some sort of send off in his opinion. Here we are. Sit, eat, then I’ll let you sleep. Don’t worry about Lee or Teddy.” She stuffed the sandwich in her mouth, barely chewing. She was surprised she didn’t choke in doing so. Sandwich done, she washed it down with the clear water Aragorn gave her. “Come on, up and strip down. Here’s your shirt and leggings. Sleep well.” She barely noted as Aragorn closed the windows, doing his best to darken the room, because she was already slipping into a deep sleep.

~~*~~*~~

Aragorn’s chuckles were the first thing she heard, and she tried to roll over to see what was amusing him. Next thing she knew, she was on the floor, nursing a sore head, and he was practically roaring with laughter.

“I don’t know how, Hariah,” he started as he tried to calm down. “I don’t know how, but when I put you to bed, you had your head at the head of the bed and you were in the center. How did you manage to turn around and perch on the edge?”

“It’s a talent you insufferable fool,” she snarled, unwilling to see the humor. She struggled back up onto the bed and sighed. “You won’t let me go back to sleep, will you?” Aragorn shook his head, handing her the prosthetic bag, and she sighed. In fifteen minutes, she was dressed again, this time in a simple leaf green dress with a brown bodice and brown leggings that peeked from the relatively short skirt, though it only went to her mid calf. There were little flowers embroidered on the skirt, and she had short brown boots lined with fur, before pulling a fur lined green cape around her shoulders, her braids swinging free. She silenced him with a glare, and he held his hands up in defeat.

“Come on, we’ll be late, and Bilbo wouldn’t quite like that. Since we leave early tomorrow morning, Bilbo is sending us off in his own way.”

~~*~~*~~

The tea went well, and she was pleased at the presence of Kafe, practically inhaling three cups of the stuff before switching to tea and allowing herself to be civil. That evening, about two hours before dinner, Arwen showed up in her room.

“We have enough time, shall we primp and preen and allow you to enjoy the last time being completely clean in a while?” Hariah grinned; this was the company she would crave while out with males, this easy exchange and mutual goals beyond “Destroy the Ring.”

_“Yes,”_ and that was all that was needed.

In the next two hours, they were standing side by side looking into an enlarged mirror. Arwen’s dark hair had been brushed until it shined, two small braids starting at the temples and clipped at the base of her skull keeping her hair back. She fingered the yule gift Hariah had given her, a pair of delicate ear cuffs that fit perfectly. Her pale skin seemed to glitter, the effect of a spell Hariah had cast, and her ivory silk gown was decorated in little suns, which caused the two to giggle.

Where Arwen was tall, graceful, and bright as the moon, Hariah was short, graceful in her own way, and dark as the night sky. Her dark ebony hair, wild even when wet, was still in the process of being braided back into small, tight cornrows. If it weren’t for the fact that she would be traveling tomorrow, Arwen would beg her to leave it unbound. She was wearing a black velvet and silk dress, decorated with the phases of the moon along the bodice, and many small, glittering stars along the skirt. Graceful runes decorated the arms and high collar, and she had cast the same spell over her, causing her skin to shimmer as she moved.

“Well, now that we look absolutely gorgeous, shall we go?” Hariah twitched, even as she nodded. Her scars meant that she would never really be seen as gorgeous, or even conventionally beautiful, but she was still grateful that Arwen tried to include her.

The feast was quiet, as much as one could be with Hobbits, Dwarves, and Hariah all in one place. No words were spoken about the quest, though plenty was said about what they would do after. After everything was over. After it was safe. After they had tallied their dead. After. After. After. Hariah ignored it, and bribed the musicians to play some jigs, and she managed to start a rendition of Strip the Willow. Teddy laughed and danced, and hollered and whooped, and Lee just smiled and went along with it, patiently explaining the dance to those who didn’t quite understand. Frodo laughed, unburdened by his thoughts this evening, and Sam relaxed. Arwen and Legolas slipped out as soon as they could, and Hariah did them the favor of _not_ cat-calling as she watched them leave to the gardens. Boromir took her to the side, and told her that if she needed someone to talk to, he would be willing to be a “temporary Lee” during the travels. She didn’t need a “temporary Lee” but appreciated the offer. Aragorn became Strider once more, quiet, but quick to laugh and relax. Gandalf hummed merrily as he sat with Lord Elrond, surveying the chaos that had erupted. She plopped down with them, shaking out her leg as she did so.

“I’d say I’m sorry for this, Lord Elrond, but I try to make it a habit of not apologizing when I don’t feel sorry. I just couldn’t take to solemnity; it was a reminder of what’s to come. But, about your offer, of calling this place home... Even though I am part of this quest, may I? May I call this home if... when I survive?” Lord Elrond reached over an patted her arm, passing her a glass of wine.

“Don’t try to apologize for this. Perhaps we Elves have forgotten to let go and have some crazy fun. Many of my most weary citizens look ages younger, partaking in this. And yes, you may, as may your son and brother. Drink, be merry, but do not forget that you travel early, yes?” She nodded, grinning as she did so, and went to rejoin the dancing, partnering with an enthusiastic Frodo.

“I had heard that Varda took her from her home and brought her here, after Estë healed her. Gandalf, I think she is the one who can save many. She is the one this fight needs. Not as a figurehead, but as a light.” Gandalf tilted his head, watching as she danced.

“I think it’s more than that, my old friend, but what, I cannot say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translations:  
> \- Oh Lord, please let it be something different. Not another Horcrux, please, no.  
> \- Such strength in those small bodies. Let us hope it does not fail.  
> \- Sit down, Legolas.  
> \- little sister  
> \- Ah, my wonderful blades, Fear and Hope. You shall once again thirst and be quenched.  
> \- nephew
> 
> Here we are, and I can say that this is the furthest ahead I have written for this piece.. The next chapter will be a little longer as I'm working on the timeline and such.
> 
> As of 2/10/2018, this is the final version of this chapter. Any mistakes still in will be left as they are, because if I and two others have not caught them, nor has the application I use to type caught them, then they don't need fixing.


	7. Author's Note

**As of February 10, Chapter Five (Decisions Are Made) has been updated. I am caught up and past where I was when I noticed my errors in using the wrong notes. From here on out will be completely new material (or rather, completely new material here for this story) so now's the time to forget what you once knew of what I had written ;) and I hope you, my readers, enjoy this. I am working on rereading sections of the book so that I can work on timing, so I may be a little slower in putting out new chapters, but I will be working on them!

 

Thank you for sticking with me through this mess. Can you believe it's been over a year since I posted the original Prologue? I can barely believe it myself. So much has happened; I lost my friend to Death, I lost my job, my baby brother graduated high school, my great-grandpa died, I got to see my (long-distance) boyfriend for the first time in over a year, and I made and lost friends (this time not to Death). It's been a year, and here's to hoping this coming year is better!

 

This Note will not be replaced by the next chapter, due to sentimental reasons, though it may disappear if I end up going through and cleaning up the chapter list. Who knows, I may just remember the sentiment if I do clean up, but this is the last update to the Author's Note.

 

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**As of February 8, Chapter Four (Reunions and New Meetings) has been updated. I am working on Chapter Five (Decisions Are Made) right now, and it will (most likely) just be the Council of Elrond from the viewpoints of several different people, so be prepared for the same set of words over and over.

 

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**Please note that I have changed my username, this was not taken from me and posted by someone else! I am still CheyennePotterMarvel95, only not, since I've outgrown that name (mentally, that is).

 

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**As of February 1, I have updated Chapter Three (News From Home), as well as changed the names of the old chapters and posted warnings. Things are starting to deviate more. (And edited the formatting of this chapter...)

 

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**NEW! I have updated the Prologue and first two chapters as of yesterday (1/24/2018)! Almost a year since I first published the prologue... wow...

 

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EDIT 14 DECEMBER 2017: As the year comes to a close, it's hard for me to believe it's been almost a year to the day since this version of the concept was born, and almost three years since the first version of the concept was born. I promise I have not abandoned this, in fact, I have a couple of friends going through what I have written now to make sure it flows. I have discovered, as an author, that it is hard to see things from a reader's perspective because I know exactly what's happening, and therefore I might forget to explain something that needs explaining.

The reason, however, this is taking so long is because I have added a lot of detail. Way more than I probably should have, which is another reason I asked some friends to comb through it. I am at the point where they meet Elrohir and Elladan, so I'm getting closer to where I left off. I hope, by the new year at the latest (though it may or may not happen because I work a fireworks stand New Year's Eve) that I can update with the Prologue, if not the first chapter as well.

Thank you for sticking with me, people, and know that I love all of you!

 

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EDIT 23 AUGUST 2017: So, I have not updated the story yet, but I am letting you all know that I have finally sorted out my backstories and characters, only to discover that one of my brothers had messed with my stuff. I was using the ideas from my FAILED pile. The FAILED pile was filled with somewhat workable, mostly incomplete ideas that could get far enough, but not all the way. Said brother had deleted all my COMPLETED ideas (the files with the completely workable, get me all the way ideas) so I have had to go back and redo everything from the FAILED. (I am now keeping a digital copy of it all on my iPad and computer, as well as a physical copy. It has been tiring work, but rather fulfilling.

Also, the Plot will stay the same, mostly, but I'm adding details, and other little things to change things more to the way I had originally thought the documents I was using would go. Basically, things are more like I thought they were, not as they ended up. I am still typing up the chapters, and I want to try to have more of the actual story written, instead of typing each chapter into the site each time I update. I also want some of my sketches and drawings in a digital format to add to the story before I put them up. I promise I am working on this, though.

 

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First off, I have always told myself that I would never post an Author's Note, and yet here I am. I'm sorry.

I am not abandoning this work!! Two things: One, I have been through a hard time, with one of my close friends dying, and losing my job, and trying to find a new one amidst being evicted for not being able to pay rent, and two, I just realized I was getting the character biographies mixed up. I have three or four different biographies for the same character to be used in different stories. I need to sort out the correct details, then make sure to fix the chapters to match. Every chapter will be affected, and I just wish I had thought of wroting the biographies down sooner, so that I would have caught this sooner.

I will update this chapter when I fix things. Thank you in advance for being patient with me! 

 


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